


A Knight And His Dragon

by ranchelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU: fantasy, Allura is the strongest of them all, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragon!Keith, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Heith - Freeform, Hunk in shining armour, Keith is half dragon, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining Lance (Voltron), There is actually a plot, everyone will be happy in the end, shance, sorceror!lance, there is pretty art inside
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranchelle/pseuds/ranchelle
Summary: Keith sputters and lets loose a spew of fire behind them."Oh no, no, nooo," mutters the knight as he picks up speed and tightens his grip around his charge instead of dropping him like Keith wants."That's probably the dragon who lives here. We'll have to go faster if we don't want to be toast!" pants the knight, his voice nervous. "Hang tight!"Keith breathes more fire and struggles but all it does is spur the knight on. The fool isn't even looking back to see where the fire's coming from, blindly assuming he's being chased by a fire-breathing dragon when /said dragon/ is bouncing painfully on his shoulder.Keith is stuck as a half-dragon and he's minding his own business when a knight kidnaps him from his own cave.  Faced with good food and a comfortable couch, he finds it very hard to leave.Inspired byBimmyKimmy's art!





	1. Did You Just Kidnap A Dragon?

  
Keith lets his scalded tongue hang out, taking in the hot air that isn't helping in the least to cool the burns off. He hasn't breathed so much fire since...well, probably just a moon ago when a large swarm of bandits attempted to kill him and loot his cave.

Today's a Galra kind of day. Galra soldiers from the neighbouring kingdom try to steal and make off with the treasure in his cave which he stole, and is still stealing, from them. At first it was just a couple of bounty hunters, but now it seems the Galran higher-ups finally got the message and began sending proper troops to his cave. So here he is, standing over a Galra captain he just took down—one who morphed into a dragon twice his size—and he is, at the moment, very bruised, very battered and can really use a break.

He grips his bleeding side with a hand and coughs, wishing he's a full dragon instead of being a half _whatever-this-is_ and not having the body to withstand extended fire-breathing.

The Galra are top-grade assholes but they are persistent, he'll give them that. He looks over the nasty gash on his tail where blood had crusted over his gleaming crimson scales. Sure, his tail provides the balance when he flies, but when he's not? It gets in the way pretty much the rest of the time—and it's not like he can fly right now with one of his wings, undersized to begin with, badly torn up. His mood is hitting rock bottom as his tail—a large useless extension that does nothing but hurt—together with his useless, limp wings, drag along the ground behind him.

He runs a hand through his hair and his fingers hit his horns, frustrating him even further. He hasn't had proper sleep ever since he got stuck in this half-dragon form. He can't sleep on his belly comfortably like a dragon can and there is no way he can even lie on his back like a human with his wings in the way. He can't even comb his hair without hitting his horns.

Don't even talk about getting dressed. The thin, blunt spines along his back often catch onto his under-tunic, which is already cut up to accommodate his wings. He rather go without but despite his draconic features, he is still very much human and wanting to appear intimidating as a half-human means wearing loud, flashy armour.

He's fed up of the ill-fitting and gaudy red armour that presses uncomfortably on his spines and cramps his wings that he has to wear. No one makes armour for people like him. No one makes _anything_  for half-dragons at all. But he can't go out there undressed. No one's going to be scared of a dragon who looks like a homeless human showing off his bare, slightly frozen nipples.

He wishes his body, like everything else in his life, isn't so fucking _half-assed_.

He knows, from his bitter feelings welling up like a muddy pool, that the bleeding is definitely getting to him. He coughs more smoke out of his lungs, knowing he'd be flightless and _voiceless_  for at least a few days to come.

He hears shouting a few rooms down and wonders how much of the Galra troop is left. The sounds of swords and shields clanging reverb through his caves as if there is already fighting. He's got a few good fireballs left in him and he gauges it should be enough to drive out the rest of the small fry.

He carefully approaches the sounds of battle and in the light of the crystal torches—more treasures he stole from the Galra who in turn stole from the Balmerans—he can see the gold and silver plates and shields of Altean knights fighting the purple-armoured Galra.

Reckless young knights, probably fresh out of the Garrison, so eager to prove themselves as always, he thinks. The Alteans are winning in numbers, but the many injured lay on the floor as their fellow knights fight on, caring more for the glory of defeating the Galra than tending to them... _all save one_.

His eyes follow a tall, heavyset-looking knight in golden armour, who ducks a sword swung his way, bodily bashes the offending Galra out of the way and picks up an injured knight, throwing him over his shoulder and quickly making his way out of the cave. Keith watches on with fascination as this strange knight comes back in after a minute and repeats the process over and over until there are no more injured on the ground. He even does the same for the injured Galra, but not before knocking them out. The knight may be strange but he definitely isn't an idiot.

Keith is so taken by the sight before him he didn't realise the dragon sneaking up behind him. He is knocked off his feet by a spiked, purple tail.

The Galra captain, whom he thought he has defeated, is hovering over him, still bleeding from the deep wounds Keith had given him. The large dragon roars and swipes his claws at him. He holds up his arms, his scales providing some defense but not enough. He takes a breath and shoots a fireball at the enemy captain's face, which gives him a few seconds to get behind the dragon and jump onto it, digging his claws in. The Galra captain howls and spews hot violet fire around, staggering into the room where the fighting is.

Galra and Alteans alike scramble for cover as they dodge the large dragon's flames.

Keith slides off the side as his arms loses the strength to hold on and makes a grab for an Altean sword lying on the ground. The dragon is moving slower now, its eyes glazed over from blood loss. Keith grips the sword with two hands and drives it into the Galra captain's neck, and with a pained whine, the dragon's fire sputters out as he falls to the ground, dead. The remaining Galra, seeing their captain dead, lose their motivation and retreat out of the cave. The remaining Alteans too, began to back away as Keith turns to them, covered in blood, and lets loose a stream of fire at their feet to hasten their retreat.

 _Get out of here, humans,_  thinks Keith as he coughs after that fancy fire-trick. Fireballs are so much more effective than the flashy, low-density spewed stuff the Galran dragons seem to like to do.

He coughs and falls to his knees. He must be losing more blood than he thinks. His eyelids are beginning to feel heavy. He knows he should get up and dress his wounds before he bleeds out on the floor but he's so _tired_.

The strange golden knight is back in the cave, looking around, and his eyes fall on the sight of the slain Galra dragon before him. He sees the sword sticking out of his neck and proceeds to promptly throw up. Keith frowns, wondering why someone like this guy would be here in the first place. He watches as the knight takes a swig from his water pouch and spits, apologising to the ground as he soils it further.

Keith chuckles, his sore, swollen throat making it sound like a wheeze, and that catches the knight's attention. He rushes over to Keith and gasps at the injuries.

"You're gonna be all right, my friend," says the knight as he slides his arms under Keith and hauls him over a large, sturdy shoulder. "Just hang in there, okay?"

Keith coughs and tears up as his own chest plate presses against into his bruised, possibly cracked, ribs. More words of comfort tumble from the golden knight's lips and he struggles to be let down. He can't let a knight carry him out into the open to be seen by others. They will kill him on sight and he prefers to be alive, no matter how much he complains to himself about his half-assed life.

Keith sputters and lets loose a spew of fire behind them.

"Oh no, no, nooo," mutters the knight as he picks up speed and tightens his grip around his charge instead of dropping him like Keith wants.

"That's probably the red dragon who lives here. We'll have to go faster if we don't want to be toast!" pants the knight, his voice nervous. "Hang tight!"

Keith breathes more fire and struggles but all it does is spur the knight on. The fool isn't even looking back to see where the fire's coming from, blindly assuming he's being chased by a fire-breathing dragon when _said dragon_  is bouncing painfully on his shoulder.

 

The evening sun greets them as they emerge and the knight doesn't stop running until a while later. Keith squeezes his eyes shut as the sunlight hits them. How long has it been since he's left the cave while the sun was out? The knight sets him down on the ground and sits him with his back leaning against a large, dry rock. Keith holds a protective hand over his ribs where it hurts the most as he cracks open his eyes and lets them slowly adjust to the light.

The knight is digging in the large pouches hanging on his belt, fishing out his last roll of bandages and sits on his knees next to Keith, who realises they are somewhere on the other side of the cave and there is no one around but them. He wants to ask, but his throat is still swollen and it is hard to even breathe properly, let alone speak.

"I guess you wouldn't want to be seen," says the knight, gesturing at Keith's horns. Keith narrows his eyes and glares.

The knight continues to profusely apologise as he gently nudges Keith's hand away from his ribs and peels away the armour and leather covering his chest.

"This looks pretty bad," says the knight, looking very green in the face again.

 _Why on earth is this guy working as some kind of medic when he can't even stand blood?_  Keith wonders.

The knight takes a few deep breaths and begins to take stock of Keith's injuries, chewing his lips nervously. Ugly red and black patches have blossomed under the skin around his torso and there is a particularly large and nasty puncture on one side of Keith's ribs where the armour plates didn't cover. He takes a breath. It's painful and his ribs rub together in a way that feels like he's being stabbed, but he can still _breathe_ , so he assumes the wound isn't deep enough to be a threat.

The knight winces as he pulls out a clean rag and presses it against the still bleeding puncture. He gently takes Keith's hand and presses it on the cloth to hold it in place for him as he firmly wraps the bandages around to secure the blood-staunching rag in place. His wings are the way so he lifts them up to allow the knight to slide the bandages under them. Keith finds it amusing how the large hands that are trembling against his skin move so skilfully like a well-practised medic.

 _What a contradiction,_  thinks Keith, holding up an arm to push the knight away, only for the larger man to grab his arm.

"Oh no, you've got a nasty cut here too," wails the knight as he digs through his emptied pouches. He takes the headband off his forehead and wraps it around Keith's bleeding arm as he apologises profusely, "I'm so sorry but I ran out of bandages. You'll have to make do with this."

Keith looks at the yellow strip of cloth around his arm and back at the knight's face. Bits of his long, dark bangs are falling into his eyes now the headband holding them up was gone. The yellow makeshift bandage looks quite nice against his arm, thinks Keith. He scrunches his brows together in displeasure when he sees the blood quickly staining and soaking through the headband. He doesn't want it dirtied.

"It must hurt, I'm so sorry," says the knight when he notices Keith's frowning. "You're bleeding a lot, though. we need to get you to a proper healer."

Keith shakes his head. He can't be seen by humans. He grunts and pushes his hands against ground. His eyes tear up again as he feels his ribs creaking. He'll survive, like he always did.

"Don't! You'll hurt yourself!" gasps the knight, his arms hovering around Keith and ready to catch him.

Keith pushes harder, wheezing hard as he tries to stand up and get out of here, back to the safely of his cave. His elbows buckle and he falls over. As his head hits the ground, the stabbing pain in his sides shoots up his spine and everything goes dark.  
  


* * *

  
When Keith wakes, he is lying on his belly on a soft couch and can hear voices bickering nearby.

"You can't keep him here, Hunk!" comes a slightly cracked male voice. He can see a flurry of blue sleeves waving up and down.

"He's hurt, Lance, and he's got nowhere to go," says the larger of the two men. He's wearing a yellow shirt and a green vest and he sounds familiar...oh, it's the knight who totally kidnapped him from his home.

"He's got horns and wings and a tail! That, my buddy, is a yelmore-humping _dragon_ ," says the blue-robed one.

"He's not! He probably got injured by the big, actual Galran dragon that was there. Besides, he didn't hurt me when I was giving him first-aid," says 'Hunk'.

Keith groans as he shifts, his neck cramps up from the awkward position he slept in but all that comes out is a voiceless wheeze.

The knight comes quickly to him when he notices him trying to sit up. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Keith looks around, then down at himself. His ribs aren't hurting as much and there's something cool pressed around his chest that seems to be helping in relieving pain. His armour and leathers are gone. His pants are cut up, revealing his bandaged legs. He runs a hand over the cool bandages around his chest and looks puzzledly at the two men.

"Lance did that. He's a sorceror and somewhat of a healer too," introduces the knight. "Oh, right. I'm Hunk, by the way." He stretches a hand out and Keith stares at the hand. Hunk withdraws it after he realises Keith isn't going to shake it.

"Anyway," continues Hunk, "this is my place, and you can stay with me until you get better."

" _Our_  place," mutters Lance. "I live here too. You could've asked me before you decide to bring a dragon to our house. And he's taken the couch! Where will I sleep!"

"I own this place, Lance," says Hunk, raising a brow. "Last I checked, you weren't paying rent."

"Ouch," says Lance, putting on the most shameless puppy eyes Keith has ever seen. "You're not going to drive me out, are you? My best friend, my platonic soul mate, my buddy boo bro?"

"You know I'll never do that to you, my buddy boo _bro_ ," chuckles Hunk, giving Lance a strong, one-armed hug. "Also, you can have my bed. I'll take the floor."

"You're too good for me, _bro_ ," says Lance, hugging back. He peers closer at Keith's face and squints. "Hey, Hunk, does he look familiar to you?"

Keith blinks. Now he looks at the two up close, they do seem very familiar. Where has he known them before—

"Mullet!" screams the sorceror, pointing at him like he's seen a ghost.

"Keith?" gasps Hunk, paling a notch at the mere mention of the name.

 _Oh,_  thought Keith. No wonder he thought they seemed familiar. They were at the Garrison together before Keith got kicked out of there two years ago. He saw them briefly again a year ago as well during a rescue mission.

Hunk and Lance, he recalls, were in his class, with Lance always throwing snide remarks at him over the most ridiculous things while Hunk would gently pull his friend away from antagonising Keith further.

"But it can't be," says Hunk, his fingers hovering over Keith's horns.

"I guess I got it wrong," says Lance, examining Keith's features closely. "His eyes are weird and yellow. Still, the mullet is spot on, though! I'm going to call you 'Mullet' from now on, dragon-boy."

Keith rolls his eyes. They don't have to know. The hopeful young cadet they knew was long gone anyway.

"Hey, can you speak?" says Lance, frowning at the silence he's getting.

Keith huffs. He's done dealing with these two fools. He is tired and hungry and wants to go back to sleep now. He'll take another short nap and then bail out of here and back to his cave. The Galra probably won't be back after the last battle but he can't leave all that treasure unguarded. He yawns and hears Hunk telling him to take it easy and not put any pressure on his wounds, and warm, large, hands are pulling a soft, quilted blanket around his shoulders.

 

* * *

  
He wakes up a second time from hunger. He notices the room is dimly lit with small crystal lanterns on the wall, but not as bright as his cave since he uses the highest-grade crystals, not cheap, cracked junk like these. Maybe he could bring some for Hunk when he's well enough, to repay him for his hospitality.

His stomach growls loudly and he sighs. He needs to go hunting now. He swings his feet over the couch and pulls off the quilt. There is a tinkling of bells coming from his leg. He looks down and there are bells tied to his ankle. He tugs at it with his claws but it won't come off.

_Magic._

He assumes it must be the work of Lance. It's the logical thing to do, and he doesn't take offense personally, though it's going to get in the way of him finding food. He always goes hunting at night when no one's watching, sometimes stealing produce off a farm because although he's half-dragon, he's also half-human, and the human side of him requires the vegetables for a balanced diet.

His feet catches on the edge of the rug and he trips, crashing into the side table next to the couch that held medical supplies. He curses inwardly and rights the table, picking the fallen items off the floor.

"Hey," comes a sleepy voice.

He whips his head around. Hunk is clad in yellow pajamas, looking like a large cuddly bear in, well, pajamas, and he wonders how it'd be like to cuddle—he stops his train of thought and shakes his head.

"Oh, sorry about the anklet," says Hunk. "Lance insisted you should wear it if the both of us are sleeping. It's not that we don't trust you, but, umm... Anyway, when you want to leave, just let us know and we'll take it off you."

Keith understands. He nods and mouths, "It's fine," and Hunk smiles in relief.

"So...what's your name?" asks Hunk.

Keith shakes his head.

"We can't just call you 'Mullet', can we? It doesn't seem very nice."

Keith shrugs. He doesn't care. They can call him whatever they want, but Hunk looks a little upset. He sighs and mouths a word, but Hunk can't catch it, so he pulls Hunk's hand into his own and gently scrapes a sharp clawed nail on his palm.

"R-e-d," spells Hunk out loud. "So your name's Red?"

Keith's stomach growls again. Loudly.

Hunk chuckles and waves awkwardly, not knowing where to put his hands. "Right! You must be hungry. I've got some leftover stew in the kitchen, just give me a tick!"

 _I can just go hunt anyway_ , thinks Keith. _Leftover human food can't taste as good as freshly barbecued meat and crisp lettuce straight from the fields._

He was wrong, and very glad to be. The leftover stew is _amazing_. Being left in the pot for hours made the potatoes softer. The meat comes apart on his tongue and slides easily down his inflamed throat. He forgoes the spoon in favour of slurping noisily at the bowl as Hunk brings him a cup of water.

"Don't eat too fast," chides Hunk softly as he takes the empty bowl from Keith's hands. Keith hisses in protest until Hunk tells him he's going to get him seconds.

He licks his lips, rubs his filled belly, and lies back on the soft couch. _Tomorrow_ , he promises himself. He'll leave then. Probably after breakfast.  
  


* * *

  
The next morning starts early with Hunk stumbling out of the bedroom at dawn, saying something to Lance about wanting to get loaves of fresh bread before they sell out.

Keith swings his legs off the couch and rubs his eyes with the sides of his wrists since the scales on the back of his hand will scratch them. Sadly he doesn't have scales on his face because it's as half-assed as the rest of him. He wonders if he's going to wallow in bitterness for as long as it takes to heal, because the last time he did just that: carving angry marks on the trees around his cave, obsessively cleaning his collection of blades, and making angry noises to scare away the neighbouring wildlife once his voice came back.

His whole body is hurting a lot, being cramped on the couch in an uncomfortable position. He pushes himself onto his knees on the seats, drapes his arms over the back of the couch and slumps his ass down, his knees splayed on either side of himself. He sighs in relief as his wings stretch out, falling over the seats of the couch and scraping the floor. He leans his chin atop the back of the couch and feels the pressure on his ribs lifted somewhat. The comfortable position makes him drowsy and he drifts off to sleep again.

"Oh boy, he's completely taken over the couch," whispers Lance.

"Ahhh, he's adorable," whispers Hunk.

"You've always got it so bad for the weird ones. First you had a crush on Shay, who's like, a stone golem or something?"

"Hey, she's just a rock I admire very much, okay? Besides, she can't leave Balmera. It'll never work out between us."

"Don't feel bad, buddy, Look, you've got Mullet to fuss over now."

"His name is Red, Lance," corrects Hunk.

"Isn't that the name of the dragon whose cave you went to? I bet he's the same dragon. Though if he is, he doesn't look much. He's scrawny."

" _Shut up_ ," mouths Keith, realising that his voice may not be back but he can whisper audibly now. Hunk and Lance are staring at him and whispering so noisily it woke him up. He doesn't want to shift even though he thinks there's going to be a crick in his neck.

"Shit, he's awake. And he's not a mute after all," says Lance.

"Good morning, Red," says Hunk. "How are you feeling?"

" _m fine,_ "  whispers Keith, too lazy to even rub his eyes.

"Breakfast will be ready in a minute," says Hunk. "Do you want tea or coffee?"

Keith stares at him.

"Tea or coffee, Mullet?" chuckles Lance.

"Tea." says Keith. Coffee, as tempting as it is, would probably sting his throat, he figures.

"Huh," blinks Lance. "I thought you'd be a coffee person. Coffee for me, Hunk!"

"Sure thing. Set the table, won't you?" says Hunk as he heads off to the kitchen.

Keith watches as Lance sets out the plates on a small dining table behind the couch and smiles as he catches the smell of cooked eggs and meat waft over. Everything's so domestic and warm here.

"Hey, Mullet," says Lance. "You gonna sit at the dining table or eat on my couch?"

Keith wants to move, but his muscles are stiff and sore. He slowly pulls his arms away from the back of the couch and hisses as he moves his legs and turn around. Lance comes to him and watches as he stretches out his wings absently, working the cricks out of them. His bones made a cracking sound and Lance glares at him.

He glares back reflexively.

"I'll have you know I'm the best in my class back at the Garrison. I can take you out easily if you try anything," says Lance, raising his hands in a stance.

"I'm not going to fight you _,_ " says Keith as clearly as he can without a voice.

"You'd better not, _freeloader,"_ says Lance.

"Speak for yourself. You don't pay rent either."

"Hey, at least I make myself useful," huffs Lance, offended. "I clean, I heal, and I bless this place with my awesome presence. What do you do, huh?"

Keith narrows his eyes. He can't refute that. All he's done so far is to take advantage of Hunk's hospitality.

"Fine. I'll pay," whispers Keith.

"With what?" scoffs Lance. "Stolen treasure? Thanks but no thanks."

Keith eyes his tail. It's healing well and he just might avoid scarring. Lance did a pretty good job with healing and despite how he complains, he's never threatened to expose or harm him. Keith needs to repay what is owed. He runs his fingers over his scales. The damaged ones aren't worth much, so he dismisses them.

"What are you doing?" asks Lance, curiously looking at Keith's tail.

He thumbs over a smooth, crimson one. This should be worth quite a bit. He tugs at it and winces. He grits his teeth as he grips the lifted scale between his claws and swiftly rips it out of its bed. Blood wells up from the torn skin.

"Fuck!" yells Lance.

There's a bit of skin and blood still hanging on it. Maybe he's squeamish like Hunk. He wipes it on his bandages and holds it out to Lance.

"What the hell!" says Lance. He slaps the scale out of Keith's hand.

Keith frowns. Is it not good enough? He looks at his tail, looking for a better one. He thumbs over a lighter-coloured scale, wondering if this one would do. Wait, the one next to it is a little larger and would probably be worth more. He slides the tip of his claw under it and—

"Stop that!" Lance yanks Keith's hand away from his tail and yells for backup, "Hunk! HUNK, GET YOUR ASS HERE AND HELP ME!"

Hunk runs over from the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron. "What? What happened?"

Keith pulls his hand from Lance's grasp and leans forward to pick the scale from the floor. He polishes it carefully on a loose end of a bandage, knowing Hunk doesn't like bloody things. He holds it out to Hunk.

"Rent," rasps Keith.

"Rent?" copies Hunk. "Wow, this is pretty. Uh...what's this?" He turns the scale over in his hands.

"He just ripped it out of his tail!" points out Lance. Hunk runs his gaze over Keith's tail and gasps when he sees the fresh drops of blood still welling over the pale skin under the freshly removed scale. He drops the scale from his trembling hands and whips out his handkerchief in a swift motion, pressing it firmly on the wound.

Lance holds his hand over Hunk's and chants a spell on the handkerchief. Keith sighs as he feels the handkerchief turn cold on his skin and soothes the sting. The bleeding stops and Hunk wraps a bandage over the tail like it's a mortal wound and not a torn scale.

Keith looks at the scale on the floor. What's with people today who don't know the value of a dragon scale? They really shouldn't waste a good scale. He leans forward again to pick it up but Hunk stops him and picks it up instead. Keith stops him from returning it, his hands pressing Hunk's large fingers in to curl over the crimson scale in his palm.

"Keep it," whispers Keith.

"Umm, okay, thanks?" says Hunk, putting the scale into a pocket on his vest. "But please, _please_  don't do that again."

As Hunk leaves to go back to the kitchen to get them breakfast, Lance sheepishly sidles to the couch.

"Uhh....you know I was just kidding, right?" mumbles Lance.

Keith blinks, confused.

"About paying rent and all," says Lance. "You shouldn't have done that. It's just...nevermind. I'm sorry."

Keith shrugs. Lance is nice when he's apologetic and civil like this. Maybe they can even be friends. He has breakfast at the table with the both of them as they talk about the going-ons at the castle.

"Coran just makes me clean equipment all day! I'm not some glorified janitor. You don't make a powerful sorceror do that!" complained Lance as he chewed on the crisp bread.

"Well, you're really good at cleaning the delicate equipment. No one else really does it better," says Hunk.

"You bet," scoffs Lance, suddenly proud of his cleaning skills. "Oh, you're going to see Shiro later, aren't you?"

Keith perks up at Shiro's name. He hasn't seen Shiro for a year, since he rescued him from the Galra. Lance, Hunk and a small someone named Pidge were there as well. He was holding off the Galra from pursuing the others when he got struck with a quintessence bolt.

_He never caught up with the others._

_They probably didn't care anyway. He was just a Garrison drop-out they didn't really know._

"Yeah," says Hunk. "Now that the casualties are all taken care of, he wants a report on what went on with the Galra at the cave."

"Why were you there in the first place anyway?" asks Lance. "I didn't think you'd be keen to join the task force investigating a dragon's cave."

"Well, I heard a rumour the dragon has a treasure map that can locate anything," says Hunk.

Keith raises a brow. So Hunk was after treasure after all? Also, he has a few maps of Galran and Altean territory but nothing that can locate treasure.

"Hunk, buddy," says Lance, his voice soft and sad, "I know you miss him. We all do. But he's gone. Besides, I don't think treasure maps can locate people."

"We don't know that," says Hunk, his eyes downcast. Lance pats him on the arm and picks up the empty plates, offering to wash them. Hunk nods and sniffles a bit.

"You all right?" asks Keith.

"Yeah," says Hunk.

"Sorry, I don't have a treasure map like that," says Keith.  
  
"You don't? Why would you apologise?" says Hunk, slowly coming to terms with a realisation. "What, how...you mean you really live in that cave?"  
  
Keith nods and offers, "If you want maps of the Galra Empire, I can get you some."  
  
"Holy—" stutters Hunk, eyes wide, "that's _your_ cave. You...you really are a dragon? _The_ red dragon?"

Keith shrugs, a non-committal gesture. He knows most people don't like dragons so he isn't going to outright admit to being one.

"Umm, right," says Hunk, slightly confused, "I'm gonna go see Shiro now. Oh, Lance will remove the bells from your leg before we go to the castle. We'll be back by dinner."

"Thanks," says Keith. He's beginning to like the sound of the bells on his ankle. Maybe he'll keep the anklet. And the headband. And the handkerchief.

 _Fine_ , he admits to himself, _I'm a fucking hoarder._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is strongly inspired with a scene based on a beautiful and downright adorable illustration (attached in the fic) by [bimmykimmy](https://bimmykimmy.tumblr.com/). Click their name for the link to their tumblr! Because of difficulty in scrolling, I constrained the image above. See the full-sized art [here](https://bimmykimmy.tumblr.com/post/158425223476/)!!
> 
> I still have problems with the title so if I find a better title, I'm changing it XD
> 
> Chapter 2 will take a while because I still need to finish up Chasing Myths but rest assured I have a plot somewhat planned out and this fic will probably be about 3 chapters long, I guess? I just want sweet, fluffy domestic Heith for this fic~ Ratings may change if I decide to spice things up... :D


	2. The Dragon's Actually Just A Tourist

"This isn't good," says knight-commander Shiro, pacing the marble floors of his office. He is as tall as Hunk and wears a dusty grey coat with silver Altean lions embroidered on its sleeves. "An entire troop with a dragon-rank officer leading them? The Galra are getting bolder with each attack on our borders."

"We won this time but we had a lot of casualties," Hunk says. He is dressed in his usual uniform—a dull orange coat of a mechanic, apron and gloves half sticking out one of the large pouches on his belt.

"If you hadn't gone with them, most of them wouldn't have gotten off with just scrapes and bruises," said Shiro. He presses his fingers to his chin thoughtfully and levels his gaze at the mechanic. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," he says, shoulders dropping slightly. "But I'm going to keep looking."

"I know you're a Garrison trained knight but don't do anything too dangerous," says Shiro. "I wish I could go out there and look for him myself, but I can't leave Altea. I'm sorry you're doing this alone."

"It's all right, Commander," says Hunk. "I'm doing this because I want to."

"You don't have to be formal with me, my friend," says Shiro. He takes some papers from his desk and unfolds them, passing them to Hunk. "I am planning to a trip to the red dragon's cave. We need to either seal that treasure cave up for good or bring the contents back to the castle. Help me check and see what else we need."

"We?"

"You're part of the team, Hunk," says Shiro. "I plan to keep this to ourselves."

Hunk fumbles with the papers and finds himself blurting out, "Can't we leave it alone? There's already a dragon guarding it. Maybe we can send more soldiers to guard the treasure instead of taking it?"

He takes the papers and sifts through them. This is bad, he thinks to himself as he sees Allura's signatures on them. Shiro already has the princess's approval to go ahead.

Shiro shakes his head at Hunk's suggestion. "Sending soldiers to stand guard isn't feasible in a long run. As much as I would rather leave sleeping dragons lie, we can't risk letting more resources fall into Galra hands."

"About the dragon..." Hunk hesitates. _How does he go about explaining that Red is harmless? Or at least not on the Galra's side_?

Shiro sighs. Hunk doesn't envy Shiro's job. He knows the knight-commander has more on his plate than it seems. He sees Shiro's plate as a large one heaped with some of that green goo Coran developed as nutritional military rations that tastes as bad as it looks. He wishes he can lighten some of the commander's burden but he doesn't want to be anywhere near that plate.

It's only afternoon but Shiro's had a long morning dealing with nobles demanding Princess Allura to deploy more soldiers to protect the borders. Hunk and Lance were there in the later part of the meeting to offer some form of moral support with their presence. Also, having a large, tough-looking armoured knight and a grinning sorceror showing off his sparkley magic standing near the nobles somehow helped speed up the discussion.

It was a very trying morning, with Allura finally cracking and politely telling the nobles to go fuck themselves.

Her exact words were, he recalls, _'If you have the coin to hire mercenaries to extort illegal taxes from the peasants on your land, you definitely have the means to hire guards for your borders. Now kindly stop trying to dip your greasy hands in my pockets and get the quiznak out of my castle."_

Shiro had to translate her words for them as he escorted the nobles out to: _"We will be checking your accounts soon. Please don't do anything stupid. Oh, and you're expected to contribute to the war effort against the Galra. Thank you for visiting."_

"What do you want us to do about the dragon, Hunk?" asks Shiro.

"I'm hoping you could...not kill him?" tries Hunk.

"No promises," says Shiro. "We're not out to kill, but if it—" he corrects himself with respect to Hunk—"if _he_  attacks us, I can't hold back."

"So if I can get him not to attack you, you won't harm him?"

Shiro looks at Hunk. "I know you're kind to a fault, Hunk, but promise me you're not going to do something reckless like get yourself killed saving a _dragon_."

"No! No, I'm not going to do something dangerous like that," blurts out Hunk. "I'll...just be on my way now. Got pipes to fix down at Coran's!"

He steps out of Shiro's office, only to recall something and pop his head back in, "By the way, Lance mentioned he'll be dropping by later to discuss the new lightweight armour plates Coran's working on. And he'll bring you lunch from the kitchen while he's at it."

"Sure," says Shiro, feeling another headache approaching. "Thanks, Hunk."  


* * *

  
Keith finds himself wandering through the lively bazaar leading up to the castle. It's been a while since he's walked the streets in broad daylight. Under a large, Hunk-sized cape, he finds blending in easy. There are enough people of character wandering the streets in all sorts of garb, carrying baskets and hawking wares.

The wing-bulk hidden under the cape doesn't stand out much compared to the strange contraptions the shops carry. With his torso bandaged and his wings in the way, he decided to do without a shirt and went with just a cape he found in Hunk's cupboard. He did take the trousers Lance left strewn over a chair and a pair of Garrison issued cadet boots in a shoe shelf—the skinny sorceror sure has a lot of shoes. Lance is about his size and he thinks he should grab a few more sets of clothes off Hunk's freeloading housemate before he goes back to his cave.

"How about it, young lad? Lass? Fancy a trendy hat?" says one of the stall vendors, holding out a strangely shaped hat that looks like a giant sock. On the side of it, a cute felt lion with button eyes stares back at him. With the generous size and fluffiness of the sock-hat, it looks large enough to fit over his horns and keep his ears warm on those cold nights. He puts a knuckle to his chin as he considers it.

"I even have a red one that'll match your yellow eyes perfectly!"

The words jolt Keith out of his thoughts immediately. Has he already been found out? Yellow eyes aren't exactly normal around here. What if the man calls the guards—

"And this is the latest fashion you can show your friends back in Balmera!" continues the vendor, holding out the red hat in his hands.

_Balmera?_

_Oh_ , thinks Keith. Most Balmerans have yellow eyes. It isn't strange for the vendor thinks he's Balmeran.

His eyes wander back to the hat. And he does like red. He wonders if he has anything he can trade for it and digs around in his pockets, pulling out a few silver coins left behind in Lance's trousers. He looks at the hat again, wondering if he has enough.

"It's thirty Alforians but I'll give you a special tourist discount and give it to you for twenty-five," says the vendor cheerily.

Keith looks at the coins in his palms. He has a fifty, a ten and two five-Alforian coins. He pick out the largest coin and drops it into the vendor's open palms, who quickly hands him the red hat and his change of twenty-five before he can regret his purchase.

Not regretting spending Lance's coin one bit, Keith turns the soft fleece-lined hat in his hands, fondly thumbing over the fat lion sewn onto it. He is accosted by another vendor who manages to sell him a candied apple for an Alforian, and by the time he reaches the castle gates, he has his arms filled with paper bags of food, cheap toys and empty pockets.

The silver gates are open and there is a line of people at a table outside the castle doors. Curious, he wanders to the front of the table to see what the queue's for.

"Get in line, kid," says a Altean guard watching the line. When Keith looks up, the man huffs at him when he notices his yellow eyes. "You from Balmera? The queue's for Altean citizens seeking an audience with the royal advisors. If you want a tour of the castle, come back on an open festival day."

A glint of light catches his eye and he turns to see a bespectacled uniformed youth heading out of the castle door. Eye-glasses are pretty expensive and a rare sight so he thinks he can't be mistaken. That's definitely Pidge, one of the Garrison cadets who helped rescue Shiro a year ago. He finds himself following her out of curiosity. It's been so long since he's really talked to anyone and the last two days spent with Hunk and Lance opened a floodgate of overflowing curiosity; he wants to know how everyone is faring after a whole year.

He follows Pidge from a distance, watching her talk to a guard at the castle gate.

His gaze lingers on the castle gate. The last time he saw Shiro, he was unconscious and missing an arm. He hopes his old friend's doing well. Maybe it won't be too hard to just sneak into the castle at night and take a peek—

"Get him!"

Keith is broken out of his thoughts by a yell. He whips around to see two guards coming after him. There's no other exit than the main gate, blocked off now the security is on high alert. The armoured guards run towards him, spears in hand. He drops his bags and runs, dodging past the lone guard at the audience-seeking queue and hopping over a low gate behind them, leading to the back of castle.

He runs along the narrow space between the castle walls and the tall fences, squirreling through the unruly undergrowth. His cape gets caught in the brambles and he tugs it free, tearing the edges and inwardly mutters an apology to Hunk. He bursts out of the narrow space into a large garden of sorts, where a blue-clad man and two more guards are waiting. He shields his face instinctively when a net is thrown over him and extends his claws, ready to slash the net apart—when he realises the net is cold and his claws are useless against the magic-infused ropes.

"Got you, Galra spy!" comes a familiar voice. Keith lowers his arms and sees that it's Lance, who is looking pretty pleased with himself. "Not so sneaky now, are you? You were caught the moment you entered the castle gates. Who the quiznak wears dull capes like these anyway? Well, maybe Hunk has one of these old things in his cupboard, but—"

"Lance," Keith hisses breathily, interrupting his gloating.

Lance rolls up his sleeves and peers into the net. "...Mullet?"

Pidge comes running through the door leading into the gardens, out of breath as she comes up to the guards.

"Good teamwork, Lance," pants Pidge. "Knew you'd get my message and set a trap for them. So, what did we catch?"

Lance frowns and yanks the net off Keith, pulling him over by the cloak. He dismisses the guards and says in an undertone to the both of them, "Get inside and we'll talk."

Pidge doesn't seem too happy about Lance's suddenly sneaky actions but follows him back into the castle, letting him pull them into an empty reception room. He looks about the hallway and closes the door behind them.

"Okay, Lance, it looks like you know this Galra spy. Spill."

"He's not a Galra spy," says Lance. "I know what it looks like! Hunk picked him up two days ago from the battle with the Galra at the cave."

"He's a dragon and only Galra can take dragon forms, ergo, he's Galra," says Pidge.

"I'm not with the Galra," whispers Keith.

Pidge goes behind Keith and pulls the edge of the cloak up, exposing the tip of his tail.

"Dragon tail," Pidge points out the obvious. "We have to bring him to Shiro."

"We can't," pleads Lance. "Shiro will kill him. And then Hunk will kill me because Hunk fancies him, okay?"

"What?" says Pidge. "Hunk is in on this too?"

"Look," says Lance, throwing his hands out in frustration. "A spy would be smarter than parading around the streets looking like—" he gestures to all of Keith—" _that_."

Keith huffs and rolls his eyes at Lance.

"True," says Pidge. "A proper spy won't walk around with their dragon bits showing. This guy is plain sloppy."

Keith huffs again.

"So you'll help me keep this from Shiro?" says Lance. "I'll do something about the guards. I'll talk to them, tell them to overlook this—"

"I wanna see Shiro," says Keith, glad he doesn't have his voice, because he can feel a tightness in his throat at the thought of possibly seeing his old friend's face again.

Lance and Pidge whip their heads around so fast they almost sprain themselves.

"Are you out of your mind—" says Lance the same time Pidge says "Are you crazy? He'll kill you!"

"Can't I?" asks Keith, tilting his head and shrugs. "I'll just take a look and leave."

"Ohhhh," says Lance, a look of understanding dawning on his face. "You're a fan of the commander, aren't you? Shiro's good-looking _and_  perfect, so it's no wonder you'd want to sneak a peek at the legend."

"Lance, you're just speaking for yourself," says Pidge dryly.

 _A respected commander of the Altean knights, huh_ , muses Keith. Knowing Shiro is doing well lifts a weight from his heart. He guess he's fine with the answers he's got and can leave now.

He turns to leave but Pidge stops him. "Uh-uh, even if we don't bring you to Shiro, you're not going anywhere until I know your entire family history and can be sure you're not some criminal."

He knows Pidge is resourceful and clever but he also knows none of them can catch him once he is in the sky. His torn wing is stitched up, bandages tightly holding it in place. It won't fly well but he's been through worse. He needs a window, which the reception room has because Lance is getting careless with him and let his guard down. He makes his way to the wall, glancing at the generous window just waiting to be opened.

Lance notices his intention and grabs at him. Pidge joins in but all they do is pull the cape off him as he pushes the large window open. He spreads open his large wings, wincing at the sharp pain of possibly tearing open his wound. It hurts like a horse trampled on him and he bites back on a voiceless cry. He flaps to get the wind under his wings as he pushes off the sill, taking off to the sky.

He doesn't look back.  
  


* * *

  
When Keith returns to his cave, he sees a pair of thieves—skinny, wretched scavengers pushed to live on the Altean borders—busy stuffing gold coins into bulging pockets and bundling trinkets into their shirts.

The edge of Altea is an unforgiving place for the poor, nothing but infertile land stretching into an endless desert into the rocky Balmeran mountains. With cut throat bandits hiding in the mountains and Galra raiding the borders, he isn't surprised when thieves resort to stealing from his cave in desperation.

Upon seeing him, the pair yelped, dropping everything and backing themselves into the treasure heaps against the wall. They have nowhere to run with Keith blocking the main tunnel leading out of here.

"Get away from us!" screams the older boy, drawing out a small knife. He looks no older than Keith himself as he pushes a child behind him.

Keith rests his hands on his hips. His wings are aching. He's tired and cranky. He stretches out a crick in his neck, rolls his shoulders and sigh. The knife-wielding boy backs away as his trembling hands point the pathetically small blade at him.

The small child eyes the gold on the ground and makes a grab for them. The older one slaps the child's hand and yells for him to stop, afraid of the dragon before them. The dragon, instead of approaching them, takes a step to the side and bends down, pushing aside the mess of trinkets from one of the piles to pull out a fat, embroidered pouch.

"Don't take the gold. Bandits will kill you if they find those on you," says Keith, tossing the pouch to the spooked boys. "Take this instead."

The older boy jump back as the pouch lands at his feet. The younger one peeks out and grabs the pouch, opening it and finding it filled with silver Balmeran coins.

"Now get out of my house," hisses Keith, walking away from the exit and folding his arms, waiting for them to leave. The boys scurry off, the child hugging the heavy pouch in his arms. He sighs, knowing that desperation will drive more of these thieves to his cave. The number of refugees have been increasing lately and so have the bandits. He'll have to add more bandit extermination into his schedule to keep the refugees safe.

 _It's back to work,_  thinks Keith. He looks at the mess still left behind by the Galra and Alteans and decides that cleaning can wait till tomorrow. He takes one of the smaller, twisting tunnels deeper into the cave, pushing aside the heavy curtains of leather that acts as a doorway to his room.

Compared to the opulence in the large caverns near the entrance, his room is simple and barely furnished. Parts of his spare armour sit on a plain shelf next to a few tomes of yellowed books. Swords and blades of various make lean against the walls next to a chest of clothes. A couple of palm-sized Balmeran crystals sit atop his shelf and keep his room well-lit.

A sturdy table takes up most of the space in the room. Grooves and ink smudges cover the worn wood of the table. A large map is rolled out on it, small rocks and tokens of carved wood marking out locations of interest. A small dagger sits as a paperweight on a pile of crumpled papers filled with his messy scrawls. He runs a finger over the map, marking out the locations near the refugee camps he needs to check for bandit lairs once his wings are up to it.

There's no point in removing his boots; there never has been. He's never comfortable so he might as well be combat ready even in rest. He pulls on a tunic over his bandaged torso, ties his belt and decides he'll take a break from wearing the stiff leathers over his aching body today.

He makes his way to the corner where a pile of thick blankets and rugs serve as his bed. He tries to fluff up a blanket into a makeshift pillow, wishing he has an actual one. Pillows and cushions just don't hang off washing lines like blankets do. He tries to curl up on the pile and almost immediately misses the soft, clean couch in Hunk's house.  


* * *

  
He is awoken by noises filtering into his room from the main cavern.

He jerks awake, grabbing one of the swords off the wall and heads out into the treasure cavern. He stops short when he sees Hunk there, smiling at him. Lance and Pidge are hiding behind him, awkwardly waving at him.

"Um, hi, Red," says Hunk, a nervous smile on his face as he waves.

Keith sighs. He beckons them to follow him to his room. He's sure he has a couple of extra stools around in his room, in the small pantry behind the cupboard where he keeps some dried food, barrels of water _and_  a secret exit he normally uses for his hunting trips.

"Wow," says Lance as he pushes the leather curtains out of the way and steps into the room. "I wasn't expecting your room to be so....not-shiny. Holy shit, is that one of those...conspiracy maps?"

Keith hastily rolls the map and papers up and shoves it onto the shelf.

"Colour me surpised too," gasps Pidge, running her hands over the spines of the books sitting on the ledges. "I didn't expect you to be so...well-read."

Keith swats Pidge's hand away from the shelf. No one touches his limited leather-bound editions of the _'Mysteries or Conspiracies?'_ series except him.

"Your room looks cosy," says Hunk, the tension gone from his shoulders. He sets his bag down on the table and takes a box out. Keith walks over to the table, curious. Hunk opens the box to reveal a neat row of sandwiches.

"I thought you might be hungry," he adds, pushing the box over to Keith, who picks one out and takes a large bite out of it. He sits down as he chews on the baked chicken and crisp leaves. There's a hint of spiced herbs in the bread and he can't help but sit down and close his eyes to enjoy the explosion of taste in his mouth.

"Is that how you tamed the dragon?" chuckles Pidge, looking at the domestic scene laid out before her. That snaps Keith out of his food-induced reverie and he is alert again, glaring at all of them. He begins to coughs, the bread a little too dry for his scratchy throat and Hunk pats him on the back as he hands him a jar of home-made lemonade.

"Dude. Chill," says Lance, holding up his hands to placate Keith. "We're just here to let you know that Shiro's planning to come and take over your cave with a team, namely and mostly us. You should get out of his way so he doesn't try to kill you. As dragon-y as you are, we know you're not a bad guy so we don't want you to die, okay?"

Keith narrows his eyes and rests his chin on his hands in thought. If the Alteans want the treasure, it's fine with him, but moving all this gold will require a considerable amount of manpower and movement. If the bandits catch wind of the gold being transported, or worse, if the Galra decides to ambush the Alteans on the way back to the city... If things were so easy, he'd already have given the gold away instead of stashing them here and spending his days defending it.

_Does Shiro truly understand the difficulty of what he's planning to do?_

"I can't leave."

"If you stay, you'll get hurt. How about this—we can move the stuff from your room to my place," offers Hunk.

"It's not about me," whispers Keith. "If you move the gold, you'll be in danger from the Galra and the bandits."

"I've been meaning to ask for a while," says Pidge, "but what's wrong with your voice?"

He coughs to make his point.

"Dragons get sick too, huh," says Pidge, making mental notes on dragon biology.

"How are you planning to move the treasure?" asks Keith. He thinks about how they probably have to establish a route from the city to the cave and how many escorts they would need for this to safely reach the castle.

"Large, fortified wagons," says Pidge. "We'll get onto the Balmera-Altea trade road where it's safer. There will be Balmera soldiers stationed along the way keeping Galra out."

Keith shakes his head. It's not safe enough. There are still bandits who can easily break the wagon wheels and leave them stranded as they loot the traders along the route. A few soldiers can't keep the sly rats like them out. They need a better way.

"Maybe we can just sneak the treasure back to the castle bit by bit, you know, like smugglers?" suggests Hunk.

"That'll take forever!" says Lance.

"I'll do it," says Keith. "I'll fly the treasure to the castle bit by bit every night. I'm already guarding the cave by day. It's less risky than being attacked the whole way back to the city by bandits and Galra."

"Huh, never thought you'd volunteer to help us rob your cave. You don't look that type," says Lance.

"You have a problem with how I look?" says Keith, glaring at him.

"Yeah, I do. You look like a jerk I used to know," says Lance, glaring back.

Hunk comes to the rescue, pulling Lance away.

Keith looks away and snorts.

"If you're okay with that, then we need to let Shiro know our plan so we can proceed," says Pidge.

"That's not good," says Hunk, twiddling his thumbs. "He'll definitely want to meet with Red."

"Definitely not a good thing," agrees Pidge. "But we can't convince him to go with this plan otherwise."

"He's Shiro the _champion_  dragon-slayer, remember? Who's to say he won't just strike Mullet here down once they meet?" says Lance.

At the mention of Shiro coming here, Keith stiffens.

The man's been tortured by the Galra; forced to fight in their gladiatorial rings for their pleasure and pit against Galra dragons gone mad. Who's to say Shiro wouldn't drive his sword into him once he sees this detestable scale-covered form? Even if he tells Shiro who he is, he doubts anyone, including Shiro, would believe him. Even he could hardly believe it himself when he first saw a reflection of what he had become.

He leans his arms on the table, droops his head into them and sighs.

Hunk places a warm hand against his shoulder. "I won't let Shiro hurt you, Red."

Keith turns his head to peer up at Hunk. He's so kind and he wants to take comfort in that warmth.

"Okay," says Pidge, "since we have established that Red here is on our side, I'll go talk to Shiro. I don't know what he'll think of all this but I'm sure we can reason with him. Somehow."

"I'll go with you," offers Lance.

"Then I'm staying here with Red," says Hunk.

Pidge levels his gaze at Keith and quizzes him, "Are you a serial killer who's going to murder my friend in his sleep?"

Keith cocks his head at her, puzzled at how she can sound threatening while asking something so ridiculous.

"You could just come back in the morning instead of staying the night," suggests Lance.

"He's hurt," says Hunk, raising his brows in worry at the stained bandages around Keith's body. "Whatever you guys did to him earlier today, he's bleeding again."

"Oops," says Pidge, not meaning his apology. "Sorry."

"Sure," Keith shrugs nonchalently and looks away, not meaning his apology acceptance either.

Lance leans over the table and levels his stare at Keith, who glares back on instinct.

"If you so much as give Hunk a scratch, I will throw you in a river, freeze your lungs over and then feed your corpse to the fishes."

Keith growls back, which just sounds like a sick cat hissing.

"No one is killing anyone!" says Hunk, firmly steering Lance away from Keith. "I'll see you guys in the morning, okay?"

The room is suddenly quiet after Pidge and Lance leaves.

Hunk is digging through a satchel he brought with him as Keith removes his shirt and belt, and looks at the array of medical supplies being laid out on the table before him.

A wave of anxiety goes through him. Hunk doesn't need to go through all this trouble for a stranger.

It's been so long since he anyone gave him any attention. Is Hunk simply taking pity on a wounded animal, or does he really care? He wants to know what Hunk thinks of him. He wants to know if this was a one-time thing or if Hunk will let him drop by his place now and then for a chat. He never really was one to make friends even back at the Garrison. He doesn't know what to do, how to react. He chews on his lower lip. How does one become a friend?

"Are you okay?" asks Hunk, noticing Keith's unease. "I'll try my best not to hurt you."

"Huh?" Keith stops chewing on his lip and looks up.

"I know changing bandages can sting quite a bit," says Hunk, as he cuts the dead knot off the bandages and begins unravelling it, moving slowly, gently, watching Keith's face for any sign of pain.

Keith rolls his eyes. He's not some fragile babe. He takes the bandages from Hunk and unwraps it from himself with none of that gentle touch, tossing it into a bloody pile on the table. Hunk winces at the rough way Keith maneuvers his injured wing to his front and picks at the bandages.

"Let me do it," says Hunk, unable to watch on.

The back of the chair is in the way and Keith gets up, moving over to settle down on his pile of bedding. Hunk sits next to him and turns him around, spreading his injured wing over his lap and cutting through the thick bandages. Keith tenses up as those thick fingers run over the stitched up leathery web of his wing.

"Sorry," squeaks Hunk.

Keith sighs, fed up of Hunk apologising and treating him like glass. He twists around as Hunk carefully dabs ointment around his wounds and takes his hand, firmly pressing the cloth onto his wing.  
  
Hunk watches as Red fearlessly grips his hand and makes sure the ointment soaks into his wing and does its work, hissing when he hits a painful spot but doesn't draw back. When he's done with the areas he can reach, he lets go of Hunk's hand, pointing to the parts nearer to his shoulder.

"Right," says Hunk, his hand dabbing the cloth at the wing more firmly now. "Just tell me if it hurts."

Keith nods. Then shakes his head when Hunk unrolls the bandages. The wounds have all closed up and he doesn't think he needs bandaging. If anything, he wants to keep his wings stretched and air out the scabs on his ribs. He motions for Hunk to sleep on his bed.

"Where will you sleep?" asks Hunk, looking at the not-exactly-large pile of bedding.

Keith shrugs. He can sleep anywhere. Maybe in the other corner next to the shelf. Maybe on a chair. Maybe in the tree outside.

"You should sleep on the bed," says Hunk. "Just give me a blanket and I can take the floor."

Determined to repay Hunk for his hospitality, Keith shakes his head and pushes him towards his humble bed.

"Stay there," rasps Keith. He spoke a lot today on a sore throat and it's hurting. He doesn't want to speak more than he has to. "Sleep."

"Okay, umm," says Hunk, looking between Keith and the little space left on his bed. "We could share? If you don't mind."

It seems a better option than sleeping on a tree. Keith sits down on the blankets and finds Hunk looking at his feet with a deep frown on his face.

"What?" says Keith.

"Shouldn't you, uh, take off your boots before sleeping?"

Oh, thinks Keith. Maybe wearing shoes to bed makes Hunk uncomfortable. He pulls off his boots, putting them carefully just outside the pile of bedding within reach. Hunk does the same, taking off his boots and vest. Keith reaches behind Hunk and sticks a hand under one of the folded blankets, pulling out a dagger and places it next to his boots.

Hunk gulps.

Keith raises a brow at him and gestures to the bedding. There's no uncomfortable pointy things under the blankets now.

Hunk takes up most of the space and Keith gingerly curls up next to him on the small slip of bedding left. His limbs fall out onto the cold floor and he pulls them in, trying to make himself comfortable.

A warm hand wraps around his wrist and guides his arm over Hunk's belly.

"I don't mind a little cuddling if you don't," says Hunk, pulling a blanket up to the base of Keith's wings. "It's probably going to be a cold night."

Hunk is soft and warm and large, like a giant pillow he always wanted to have. He gives in to his impulses and climbs over the large man until his chest comes up to Hunk's belly. He wraps his arms around Hunk's waist, tucking his hands under for extra warmth. His knees remain on the bedding, his tail resting between his legs, tip dragging on the floor.

Hunk watches as Red adjusts around him like a squirmy cat trying to get comfortable and chuckles. He nudges one of Red's legs over his own, letting the smaller man's knee fall between his thighs so he doesn't have to twist his body.

Keith stretches his wings over them both and turns his head to rest against Hunk's collar, trying to find an angle that doesn't result in his horns stabbing into stuff. There is a faint smell of honey and bread on Hunk's shirt.

Hunk's soft hand come up to the back of Keith's head, nudging him to fit into the crook of a large, round shoulder. He shifts up a little more and after deciding this to be the best position, drops the tight tension from his back and sinks into his human pillow. He can feel sturdy, strong muscles underneath the thick layer of soft flesh and it feels perfect.

For the first time in a whole year of being stuck in his half-assed form, Keith is finally _comfortable_.

He sobs silently, overwhelmed by the sensation of his body being completely relaxed. A warm hand caresses the back of his head, slow and rhythmic to a silent song. He turns the sudden sobs into petulant huffs as he nuzzles against Hunk's neck, allowing himself to let go of everything and _rest_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the encouraging comments on chapter one of this fic! I'll be replying to the comments on chapter one now~~  
> It took a bit long to update since I was working on my other fic but rest assured I'm not abandoning this! I hope you'll enjoy this installment as well! 
> 
> (Lance lovers: if you think Lance is being a lil' mean to Keith, he has a completely valid reason for doing so which will be explained in a later chapter.)
> 
> More tags added - Shance and lots of Heith cuddling because cuddling should be a thing yesss. Also, I have ridiculous chapter titles. It's a thing for me now. :P
> 
> I have a general plot but I don't really want it to get too big (like having full scale war with the galra and save the world nahhhh)  
> I guess it'll be maybe around 5 chapters long? I'll just put that number in as a placeholder. :D
> 
> I'm trying to keep my chapters around this length instead of pushing it to the 10k range like Chasing Myths (orz that one do until can die)~~
> 
> Also! I'm holding a small **giveaway** for readers of [Chasing Myths](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9368798/chapters/21209690), so if you're into Klance (or don't mind giving it a shot), hop over and check it out!


	3. Shiro Sees Red And Picks A Fight

   
_The dark-haired boy was already by Shiro's side when they burst into the prison, ready to carry out their rescue mission. Hunk and Lance recognised him as Keith, a fellow cadet back when they were training at the Garrison to become knights._

_They had made their way out where Pidge was waiting with horses and wagon when the druids appeared, shooting their magic at them._

_Keith and Lance pushed an unconscious Shiro onto the small wagon as Hunk guarded their backs. Lance immediately got to work checking Shiro's injuries while Keith looked to their pursuers. He hopped off the wagon, sword in hand.  
_

_"Go," said Keith simply._

_None of them really protested his staying behind. They didn't know him well. Shiro needed to get to Altea and that was everyone's priority._

_Galran druids were turning their soldiers into dragons with their magic. Hunk could see how bad the situation was, and it scared him. He was scared for himself and everyone here. How could Keith be so brave, so fearless in the face of such odds?  He had to call him back, stop him, do something.  
  
_ _"Keith!"_

_Keith turned back at the sound of his name and they locked gazes for a moment, dark violet eyes burning into Hunk's memory._

_Hunk didn't move as the wagon drove off. He watched from a distance as Keith fought off the Galra like an unyielding guardian until a purple bolt struck him down. He fell to the ground like stone, still and unmoving._

_Hunk yelled._

_Lance pulled his friend back, shaking his head._

_"Quintessence bolt," explained Lance. "No one survives that."_

_"At least it was instant," offered Pidge._

_"He's not dead," insisted Hunk, his hands gripping on the edge of the wagon. "We have to go back."_

_"We have to get Shiro back to the castle," said Lance. He saw Hunk's shuddering form and relented, knowing he could only offer empty hope. "We'll come back after that and look for him."_

_Hunk went back._

_There was nothing there._   
  


* * *

  
Hunk sits up, rubbing his face. It's been a year but he still dreams of that day he lost someone he cared about for the first time. It's as if he can't let go, can't let himself forget.

He looks around and finds he's not in his room but nestled in a pile of blankets and furs set on stone. The warmth next to him lingers and he realises Red isn't here.

He hears the loud clash of metal on metal and jolts to his feet, hurriedly grabbing his clothes and heading to the main cavern.  
  


* * *

  
Keith narrows his eyes as he observes the intruders. He expected to see Lance, Pidge and Shiro but he is taken by surprise by a tall, dark, white-haired woman with pink markings under her eyes—the mark of Altean royalty—glaring at him, wary and untrusting.

"Um, hi," says Lance, jumping in between Red and everyone else. "Red, this is Knight Commander Shiro and Princess Allura of Altea. Shiro, Princess, this is Red the friendly dragon."

Keith can't help but stare at Shiro, looking over the white shock of hair and scar over the nose. The injuries he remembers are gone, replaced by scars. His gaze wanders to Shiro's right arm, wondering what lies beneath the jacket's sleeve.

Shiro is staring back, frowning at the strange form this dragon takes. Keith knows it's because he hasn't seen a half-dragon before. None of them has. He is an exception, an abomination of dragon and human. They have the right to be wary of him.  
  
Allura steps out, ready to engage the dragon but Shiro holds out an arm to stop her.

"Please let me do this, Princess," says Shiro.

Allura gives him a questioning look but takes a step back to allow it.

Shiro looks to Lance and Pidge, and they move out of the way to let the commander approach Red.

"Shiro," Keith whispers, standing straight-backed but shaking like a newborn foal inside.

He catches Allura's wary eyes threaten his every move and knows Shiro is safe and protected.

"Red," says Shiro. He nods, acknowledging Keith. He is still staring, frowning, as if he can't make out what Keith is.

"As I've told your friends, I will bring you the treasure you want. You need not trouble yourself to come here."

"How will you do that?" asks Shiro.

"I will deliver the treasure to Altea every night until the cave is cleared."

"To the castle?" asks Shiro.

Keith nods.

"Why not allow us to cart it out with our wagons?" proposes Shiro. "Won't it be faster?"

"I can't allow that," says Keith, sweeping his gaze over Lance and Pidge. "The road back to the capital is too dangerous. Bandits and mercenaries will rob the wagons before you can reach the gates."

"He means to infiltrate the castle," warns Allura, taking out a baton and extending it into a staff, driving its end into the ground. "He could very well be a Galra spy."

Keith looks to Allura, nose wrinkled in frustration. "How can I make you trust me?"

Lance speaks up, trying to break the tension between the two. "I know he doesn't make a good case, but I think we should give him a chance."

"He will betray us once given the chance. The Galra cannot be trusted," says Allura.

If he cannot convince them to go with his plan, then he has no choice but to make them submit to his decision.

"You don't have a choice," says Keith. "You can take my offer or leave. "

Shiro draws his own sword, pointing it at the ground, his other hand on his hilt.

"If I'm to believe you have the ability to guard this cave, I need to see how good you are," says Shiro.

Lance's eyes widen in surprise. It isn't like at all Shiro to pick a fight for a reason that trivial.

"Get out," says Keith, drawing his sword, raises his shoulders and stretches out his wings, tail swishing menacingly behind him. Pidge and Lance take a step back at his intimidating display.

There is a silence as the two men measure the other, blades in hand.

It is Shiro who strikes first.

Lance yells in shock at his commander's uncharacteristic impulsiveness. He and Pidge try to stop them but their words fall on deaf ears as Allura holds them back, ready to join in the fight herself.

Hunk emerges from the tunnel as the sounds of metal strike metal escalate, looking between his friends and the fighting happening in the middle of the large cavern.

"Why are they fighting? We need to stop them!" shouts Hunk.

"They're not listening!" replies Lance, holding out his hands as if in an incomplete spell-weaving. He can't see an opening between the two men. They are both skilled with the blade, moving too fast for him to interfere.

Keith snarls as he jumps back and takes a second to read Shiro's form.

 _Left, parry, arc and low sweep, then watch his shoulders to see where he's striking,_  thinks Keith. He's trained with Shiro for years after all. He's not going to lose to the older man just because he has a bulkier form now. He tucked his wings in as tight against his body as he can to make himself a smaller target. He knows he still has the advantage of speed and doesn't waste any movement on feinting.

Shiro strikes as expected and he parries each blow with perfect precision. After a round, they circle each other like predators, waiting to see who will strike first.

Once again, Shiro strikes first, and after two moves, they are moving in synchronisation, as if they can read the other like an open book.

"Up left," says Shiro firmly and strikes Keith's right a second later.

Keith doesn't even look as he parries without difficulty.

"Wait," says Lance. "Didn't he say 'left'?"

"Maybe he's trying to distract Red," says Hunk, who has now made his way to Lance, his fingers worrying the hems of his tunic.

"Doesn't look like it's working," notes Pidge.

"Sweep right," says Shiro, his next stroke a low arc from Keith's left.

Shiro's testing him, treating this like a sparring session. If he's not taking this seriously and giving all he's got, he won't last, thinks Keith. He snorts, the flat of his sword already protecting his left leg and using Shiro's strength push him back. He whips out a dagger with his other hand and lunges forward to Shiro's left flank before the taller man can regain his stance.

There's a loud screech as the dagger scratches along Shiro's metal arm.

"Predictable," snorts Shiro.

He'll show Shiro not to let take him lightly. He quickens his strikes and even Shiro has a hard time keeping up.

Shiro's arm glows with a purple light that stirs and warms the air around him.

 _His arm is Galra_ , realises Keith.

Shiro sweeps his sword in an arc again and Keith dodges, knowing Shiro's arm is in play now and his ploy is for his opponent to fall into the metal arm's range.

He can't dodge the next strike and the force of the sword pushes him to Shiro's right. He whips his tail around and surprises Shiro just before his arm slams into his left. The metal arm twists and grabs hold of the tail in reflex. He takes the chance to kick at Shiro's legs. It isn't enough to topple him but Shiro loosens his hold and staggers a step back. In that one step, Keith drops low, pushes through into Shiro's space and holds a dagger to his neck. Checkmate.

Before he can ask for Shiro's surrender, a sudden blast of cold wind knocks him away from Shiro.

A second blast follows and he loses his sword.

A third and he finds himself against a wall, a staff driving itself into his chest with enough speed and force to crack his armour and bruise his sternum.

He doesn't have enough time to gasp when the staff circles back and cracks down on the side of his head.

Before he can fall to the ground, cold fingers grip his neck and slams him back against the wall.

His eyes can't focus. His ears are ringing loudly. His wings and legs struggle against the wall and try to push back but he's pinned helplessly, struggling for air as his feet hover over the ground. He pries at the hand squeezed around his neck, the tips of his clawed fingers digging into the cold flesh and finding it harder as rock.

Colours swirl in Allura's angry eyes, multiple spells layered over her only a master of magic can handle. He struggles but it is as effective as pushing against a boulder. Her feet are planted into the ground with earth magic.

"Allura! Stop!" yells Shiro.

An icy aura pulses out from Allura, preventing anyone from coming close. She is well-prepared, ready to counter dragon fire, not that she needs to now she has closed off the source by choking Red.

"Please!" pleads Shiro, and Allura's shoulders drop, along with her hand. She pulls away from Keith, and he falls to the ground, coughing and catching his breath.

Keith staggers to his feet, too quick, too soon. White spots blanks out his vision.

"Are you okay?" asks Hunk worriedly, and Keith backs away reflexively and pulls back his lips to bare his fangs.

"Hunk!" says Lance, pulling his friend back from the snarling half-dragon.

Keith presses a hand to his chest where the pain spikes when he breathes. His throat is bruised, his life almost choked out of him. He's not a dragon waiting to be slain. He can't escape. They've blocked the exit. He doesn't want to die. Not now.

"I'm not going to attack you," states Shiro as he approaches slowly, holding his palms up.

Keith snarls again, his wings feeling like a dead weight again pulling painfully at his shoulders. He can feel something threatening to dislocate in them and he can't retract them.

"I apologise for Allura," says Shiro, slowly and clearly. "She thought you were going to hurt me so she attacked you."

Allura looks like she doesn't agree, but she lets Shiro move ahead, magic still swirling in her eyes, ready to be released any breath.

"Let us help—"

Keith cut him off with a loud hiss, silencing them.

"Listen," croaks Keith as he cocks his head to the entrance.

The sound of wood chimes filter through the tunnels.

"What's that sound?" asks Pidge.

"Intruders," coughs Keith. He can't waste his breath on explaining the alarm system he's set up in the perimeter around the cave. He follows his usual procedure. Intimidate, engage, lure them away from the cave if he's outnumbered.

He spreads his wings further, ignoring the grinding pain as he does so, putting on his most fearsome front. He picks his sword and dagger off the ground and limps past Shiro, back facing him as if daring Shiro to attack.

He turns to Hunk and Lance and instructs, "Use the back exit."

"Wait, we need to treat your injuries," pleads Hunk, but he's unable to get close as Red keeps his wings extended.

"Come on, let's do as Red says," persuades Lance, pulling Hunk away from the entrance. "We can go around and ambush the intruders from behind."

"Lance's right," says Pidge, convincing the rest. They take the tunnel down to the hidden room and out the secret exit.

Keith makes his way out the front of cave and follows the direction of his chimes, grimacing as he hears the familiar, foreboding roar of a Galra dragon.  


* * *

  
It's a hard fight and Keith can barely hold on. The Galra officer is a dragon twice his size, swooping in ahead of his soldiers.

Keith has his speed and he dodges the dragon's slow flames without much difficulty despite his newly acquired bruises. A large target is an easy one, thinks Keith, but the dragon's hide is tough and his sword barely nicks the scales. He maneuovers around the trees to escape the powerful claws that splinters the trunks like matchsticks. He climbs a branch to gain a little height and spits a fireball at the dragon's face with some success, earning him time to find a soft spot to drive his sword into.

He comes in from behind the dragon and aims for the thinner skin under one of the Galra dragon's wings and tries to stab his sword in, but in the dragon's struggling, he misses and his sword skids off the hard scales, cutting into the wing instead. The dragon howls in pain and sweeps his spiked tail at him. Keith can't dodge in time and the tip slams into his leg, tripping him over.

He holds up his sword and braces for a hit when a streak of purple slam into the side of the dragon's neck.

_Shiro!_

With the dragon's head held down by Shiro, Keith clambers back onto his feet and drives his sword into the softer hide under the flailing dragon's wings, managing to wedge the blade under the large scales and drive it into the dragon's heart. He pulls his sword out and drops it, his hands shaking from the strain of over-exertion.

"Come on, we have to get out of here," says Shiro, holding out a hand for him to take. "They have at least fifty soldiers heading this way."

Keith reaches out without hesitation, feeling the old familiarity of how Shiro always pulled him back to his feet after a sparring match. He closes his fingers around Shiro's and the taller man tugs him close, sliding an arm under his shoulders to support him. He stiffens at Shiro's touch and tries to pull away, only for his legs to stumble as he feels another wave of giddiness sweep through him.

They exit the forest onto a road where a small, inconspicuous wagon awaits, Pidge and Allura in the front.

"Where are your horses?" coughs Keith as he sees the wagon up close.

"It's crystal powered," supplies Lance as he and Hunk pull Keith up onto the wagon. He stumbles and Hunk catches him, pulling him in as Lance pull Shiro in and close the half doors, sliding the bolt across and telling Pidge to go.

"We have to go faster," says Hunk as Lance casts a sheen of ice on the road behind them as the wagon picks up speed.

"Then give me more power," growls Pidge as Keith watches her flip some levers of the complex machinery in the front. Allura pries open a board from the floor and he sees a glowing Balmeran crystal. She plunges her hand in and the crystal glows brighter, throbbing with energy. The wagon's engine sputters and wails as the wheels turn faster.

"Slow them down!" barks Keith as he sees the Galra soldiers on their horses catching up with them.

"I'm already doing all I can!" snaps Lance, summoning shards of ice and aiming at the pursuing riders. It deters a few of the riders, but they are plenty and their shields are strong.

Then there was a crack, like thunder, as a bolt strikes and falls short of hitting them.

"Quiznak," curses Allura as she recognises the magic, "they have a druid."

"Don't let the bolts touch you or you're dead!" warns Lance as he shoots more ice at the soldiers.

Hunk cranks up the engines, constantly adjusting it as Allura overloads it with her magic.

"We can't go any faster than this. Slow them down with more ice!" says Pidge, steering at the front.

"The soldiers are blocking my attacks for their druid," says Lance as he keeps up the barrage on the Galra.

Another bolt hits the wheel and it breaks, forcing Pidge to slow down to avoid swerving and crashing. The wagon slows down and the soldiers are catching up.

"Watch out!" shouts Shiro as he pushes Lance away from the back of the wagon as a bolt strikes the back of the wagon. Shiro grunts in pain as the purple bolt grazes his arm.

"That's the Champion," yells one of the Galran soldiers to the druid behind them. "Quintessence bolts won't work on him. Use the anti-Quintessence; capture him alive!"

The next bolt fired at the wagon is streaked with a black electricity, hitting the back of the wagon once more. Shiro blocks the bolt with his arm and yelps in pain as he collapses.

"Shiro!" yells Lance, rushing to catch him. Shiro's skin is cold to the touch and Lance curses. Remnants of the anti-Quintessence crackle around Shiro's arm, the purple drained from it. Lance hovers a hand over it and small sparks leap onto his hand before it fizzles and dies out.

Allura casts a shield of ice over the back of the wagon but they know it won't last. They can't shield the whole wagon since the additional weight will only slow them down. It'll only last one hit. The pursuers are closing in. They won't be able to outrun them.

"His arm is losing colour and he's turning pale. I think the bolt is draining his energy," says Lance as he tries to share his energy with Shiro. "Allura!"

Allura grabs Shiro's human arm and presses it against the engine's crystal. The crystal flickers as she aids Shiro in taking in the crystal's refined energy to replenish what he is losing. Lance catches on and does the same, chanelling as much as he can into the crystal.

The wagon's engine sputters from the fluctuation of the crystal's energy.

"Go faster!" says Lance.

"We can't," says Hunk. "The bolts fried one of the engines and the main crystal can't channel energy properly."

"And we're short one wheel. We won't last until the city," adds Pidge as she pulls out a few wires and overloads some of the machinery to make it go faster.

The next bolt shatters the ice.

Keith looks at Shiro and the rest. He has to do something or none of them will make it out of this alive.

"I'll hold them off. Don't stop until you get to the city," he shouts at them so he can be heard over the sound of the dying engines and the wind.

"What? Wait!" yells Hunk as he snaps his attention away from the engines and sees Red grab Shiro's sword from his belt and jumping over the half-doors out the wagon.

Keith lets the wind catch his spread wings to cushion his fall from the moving wagon. He shoots a fireball at the soldiers's horses before he lands. The horses panic as the fire grazes them and their riders struggle to stay on. As they continue to close in onto him, he conjures flames from his breath, spreading it as wide as he can, trying to burn everything in the way, letting heat and the smoke affect the druid's aim. It works as the next bolt fails to fall on the wagon. He doesn't look behind him, knowing he needs his full focus on the enemies.

He is heavily outnumbered, but he knows all he has to do is to take out the druid and the soldiers will hopefully retreat with their leader and druid gone.

He readies another fireball for the soldiers and cuts his way through with his sword, scattering the horses. He aims his fire for the druid, who counters the fireball with an anti-quintessence bolt, absorbing its energy and turning it into smoke.

_Not good._

The soldiers behind the druid catch up and form a guard for him, and Keith has to cut through them again.

He takes to the air, letting the force of the wind push him up. Something crack and dislocates in his wings. He howls and falls back to the ground, not before shooting more flames, spooking the horses. He focuses his attacks on the horses and they create enough chaos to stop the Galra from advancing.

A bolt cuts through the flames and smoke and strikes him dead in the chest.

Suddenly he feels he can't breathe as the black and purple crawl and tighten around him like a chain, sucking his strength away. His fire sputters and dies as his knees buckle under him; he crumples to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.  


* * *

  
"Stop! We have to go back for Red!" yells Hunk.

"We can't," shouts Pidge. "Shiro's hurt and we can't risk the princess. If the Galra gets the princess, the whole of Altea is done for."

"I'm not leaving him behind," says Hunk, determined.

He'd been a coward, watching as the people he admired shield him again and again; had almost made the same mistake with Shay until he realised he couldn't afford to lose another friend. Regret spurred him on and gave him the courage to fight for the Balmerans.

No matter how close he got to Shay, he could never forget the one who paid the price for him to become the person he is today.

_Never again._

"Stop the wagon, Pidge," says Lance, the knight commander stirring in his arms. "Shiro wouldn't want this either."

"Fine," growls Pidge. "What say you, Princess?"

"If you have all decided, then we should stop," says Allura, taking her hand away from the crystal.

Pidge lets the wagon slow to a stop.

"Go," says Lance, giving Hunk a two-finger mock salute. "I'll take care of Shiro."

"Thanks, buddy," says Hunk, grabbing a sturdy shield and sword from under the seats.  
  


* * *

  
The druid shoots another bolt for good measure as he lies on the ground. Keith screams, his voice wearing away to nothing as the cold bolt rocks through his body. His vision blurs as any little strength he had left him.

"Keep the half-breed alive, he'll make for an interesting specimen," orders the druid. Keith can only be glad it isn't Shiro who is caught.

It's almost exactly like what happened a year ago, he muses. He'll find a way to escape. He's done it before and he can do it again, he tells himself.

_As long as they are safe—_

"Someone's coming," hisses the druid, and the soldiers close in.

Something is tossed his way and explodes into sound and light. He squeezes his eyes shut as the bright light blinds him. He hears shouts and when he opens his eyes and his vision adjusts, he sees a towering shield crash into the soldiers, clearing a path to him. Sunlight catches onto the shield and turn it a warm gold.

Strong arms lift him from the ground and he is tossed over a shoulder. He smiles at how familiar this feels as he is carted off the road into the trees.

"Please be alive, please be alive," pleads Hunk over and over as they run.

Keith hears more noise and catches the wagon heading towards the Galra they left behind. The sky is darkening quickly, and he lifts his head, trying to see what is happening.

Spears of ice falls on the druid and the soldiers who are recovering from the flash bomb. As they shield themselves from the attack, a storm brews above them. Allura stands atop the wagon, feet rooted to the roof as she summons thunder from the angry skies with the time Hunk bought them. The druid is no match for Allura and he falls.

"You're gonna be okay, Red," says Hunk, his lips trembling as he runs towards the wagon.

Keith finds himself bundled onto the wagon, worried faces crowding around him as he lies on his side. The wagon moves again, and he knows they'll make it to the city fine this time.

He feels drained, his wings in pain, like they're going to fall off. He can't move, much less fold them in to make space. It's hard to breathe, like his skin is too tight for him. He focuses on breathing, unable to talk, unable to think.

Lance moves away from the crystal, looking exhausted powering it in Allura's stead, and pushes Hunk aside to look at Keith.

"His quintessence has been drained," says Lance, pressing his hands to Keith's face and neck. "He's in a much worse state than Shiro. He's still losing energy. I don't know if we have enough to give him."

"We won't let him die," says Allura, her determined tone allowing no doubt from anyone. He feels something warm flowing into him as she presses her hands on his arm. The warmth doesn't reach far, and she knows it. She takes one of his hands and presses it against the crystal to amplify her magic, doing for him what she did for Shiro.

Keith shudders as he feels something tear in his wings. His cry comes out as pained wheezing.

"Guys, his wings are falling apart," comes Pidge's anxious voice. "That doesn't look good."

Keith feels something wet and sticky drip over his eyes and wonders if the splitting headache he's having is for real now.

"Oh no, his head is starting to bleed," frets Hunk as he digs out bandages from his pack and stares at Red, not knowing where to start. He combs through Red's hair, looking for the source of the wound and his fingers come off wet with blood and something feels like it's coming loose.

"His horns are falling off too," whimpers Hunk, trying to wrap the bandages around to keep the horns and wings on.

"Don't worry, buddy. His internal organs feel fine," says Lance, hands and magic focused on keeping Red with them. "Like Allura said, we won't let him die. Also, he owes me money."

Keith huffs through his nose. Lance is a pretty funny guy sometimes, he thinks.

"He laughed!" Lance chuckles. His voice is nervous, but he's grinning, trying to keep the mood light. "See, Hunk? He's gonna be okay."

Hunk's sobbing catches in his throat, his voice tight and thin as he tries to chuckle through the tears, trying his best to appear encouraging as he holds Red together. Seeing how Hunk's unable to wipe his nose or tears with his hands full, Keith reaches up to brush his hand across Hunk's wet cheek. He tries to wipe the tears away but his claws are falling apart, leaving dark blood smeared across Hunk's cheek. He tries to wipe it off with his palm, until Hunk finally carefully frees a hand from under Keith and holds his wrist gently.

"Sorry," mouths Keith. He doesn't mean to dirty Hunk's face. More tears fall as Hunk can't find his voice through his sobbing.

_Please don't cry._

His mind is a little clearer, like he's almost getting the hang of the pain tearing at him. His thoughts wander to how he prefers it when the big guy smiles when he sets good food on the table. Damn, he wants to eat Hunk's cooking right now. Anything to wash away the taste of bile and blood burning at the back of his throat.

Hunk lets go of his hand to apply more pressure against his wings and he groans, another surge of pain washing over him. He moves his hand to Hunk's arm and squeezes with what strength he's left with, hoping it'll get Hunk's attention. He doesn't want Hunk to look away from him.

Hunk turns to him but his sniffling is getting louder. Maybe they should talk about food or something because he doesn't want Hunk to be sad. Maybe he could talk about the stuff he bought at the bazaar—or that lion hat he bought.

_There's so much I want to talk about._

"Hunk," mouths Keith, the last word he manages to form before his vision blurs and fades to black.  


* * *

  
Lance and Allura are giving their all. Allura is holding onto Red's hand, pressing it on the crystal, while Lance has his hands over Red's chest, channeling his magic into energy to keep the half-dragon from turning cold.

Red's other hand is gripping at his arm, the blood from his fingertips beginning to dry. He sees Red mouthing his name and leans closer. Maybe Red is scared. At the very least, he's definitely in a lot of pain. Hunk doesn't know what else he can do to comfort him except to keep talking.

"You'll be fine," says Hunk. "We're reaching the city gates in a minute. Coran will stick you in a healing pod. We worked on that together. It amplifies healing magic and works like—" The colour is fading from Red's eyes, the yellow turning dull and grey—

"No, nonono!" cries Hunk as he cradles Red, trying to keep him awake. Red is shivering, his body spasming involuntarily whenever the pressure shifts on his wounds. Pidge is doing her best too, keeping the wagon steady as they speed back to the city. Everyone is silent, deeply focused what they can do now.

Red's eyes turn a deep violet before they close.  
  


* * *

  
Lance follows Shiro as the commander and Coran carefully lift Red from a healing pod onto a stretcher, carrying the unconscious body into a guest bedroom near the commander's office.

His eyes doesn't leave Shiro's arm, trying to make sure the colour on his skin above his metal prosthetic isn't turning some unnatural colour.

"I'm fine, Lance. You and Allura made sure of that," sighs Shiro.

"What are you going to do with him?" asks Lance, pointing at Red. "I know you told me not to let Hunk and Pidge come near him but I can help. I'm a healer almost as good as Allura. I know the equipment as well as Coran, I—"

"Coran and I are enough," says Shiro, cutting him off. "You don't have to trouble yourself."

"Are you keeping him away from us?" says Lance, looking at the half-dragon on the stretcher swaddled in bandages and blankets. "Mullet—I mean—Red, he can't hurt us. I'm stronger than him."

"It's not that," says Shiro, sucking on his lower lip as he thinks of how to tell Lance. "It's just—" he shakes his head— "I have some things to ask Red about first before I can let him see you."

"I mean, he's a dragon but it doesn't mean we can't trust him. He did throw himself out there to save us. I don't think it's fair to imprison him. I mean, it's not exactly imprisonment, more like, uh, being grounded? Quarantined in bed? Well, it's not that bad since he gets a proper guestroom and all, but—" rambles Lance.

"He'll go free after he's healed, I promise," says Shiro. "I won't hurt him."

"I had to _lie_  to keep Hunk and Pidge from coming here right now to see him. Hunk hasn't stopped crying."

"I know it's hard for you to trust me on this without a good reason," says Shiro, "but please go with me this once."

"It's not me you have to convince. You know I'll go with anything you ask," sighs Lance, a tired smile on his face.

Shiro shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your feelings for me. Even if i feel the same way for you, you know we can't—"

"Duty above all and all that, I know. It's my choice," says Lance. "Hey, what can I say? I know what I signed up for."

"Lance, I'm—"

Lance stops him with a click of his tongue and gives him a grin and finger-guns.

"Don't worry. Leave Hunk and Pidge to me. I'll keep them busy."

"Thank you, Lance."

"No problem," Lance smiles and gives Shiro the distance he wants, "Commander."  


* * *

  
When Keith wakes, a middle-aged man with an impressive moustache is in the midst of wrapping bandages around his shoulders.

"You're awake," states the man. "How are you feeling, boy?"

Keith grunts and turns his head, feeling pain everywhere. His wings feel like they're on fire and there's something stabbing at the base of his tail. He whimpers and the man grips the back of his neck and holds up his head, pressing a glass to his lips.

"This will help with the pain," says the man. Keith drinks the bitter concoction, willing to try anything as his body involuntarily trembles from the pain running through him with every movement.

"I'll fetch Shiro," he says, and before Keith can protest, he is out of the room. He slips into a daze as the numbing medicine takes effect.

He feels a hand on his head and he cracks open his eyes to see Shiro sitting by his side on the bed.

"Welcome back," says Shiro.

"Shiro," mouths Keith, his voice gone again. He strains to lift his head, turning to face Shiro.

"You're at the castle," explains Shiro. "You're safe here. No one else except Coran and myself is allowed here."

Keith slumps back down.

"The others have been wanting to see you, though, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to see them," said Shiro.

Keith blinks. _Why wouldn't I?_

As if sensing Keith's question, Shiro points out, "Your horns are gone. I don't know if you want them to see you like this."

Keith brings his hand to his head, ignoring the painful stretch on his back, and finds bandages around it. True to Shiro's words, his horns aren't there.

He tries to move his tail, but it won't move. He can feel the pain, but it's like it isn't...

He's lying on his back.

Why is he lying on his _back_?

He never sleeps this way because his wings always get in the—

He jolts up in shock and tries to turn around to reach his shoulders, hissing through the pain as his arms won't listen and refuse to move properly. He thinks he can feel them because his shoulders are in burning pain but he doesn't see them. They're big, he can't _miss_  them. His throat constricts in panic and he wheezes, his breathing panicking.

_Where?_

_Where are they?_

"Keith!"

_Where are my wings?_

"Keith," Shiro holds his hands firmly in his own and Keith stares at him, wide-eyed as he registers the sound of a name he hasn't heard in a long time.

"It's okay. You're going to be all right."

He tries to speak but his voice isn't there.

"We can talk later. For now, rest," insists Shiro and Keith can only obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the tremendous support for this fic! I never thought to get so much encouragement on a Heith fic -- your comments give me much motivation and encouragement! I'm so very grateful and I hope you can continue to support me~ m(^_^)m
> 
> There is some Shance in this chapter and there will be more tiny snippets of side-Shance coming up.  
> Age wise, I'm putting Keith, Lance, Hunk around 20/early 20s, with Shiro in his mid-20s. Pidge is probably around 17-18.
> 
> I'm sorry I'm really slow in replying to the comments but rest assured I read every single comment (multiple times) and I love them very much!
> 
> This chapter's a bit on the serious side but Keith'll get his fuzzy hat back next chapter! :D
> 
> As usual, I'm posting this up first and will come back to do some minor editing later on after I've rested my eyes~
> 
> Meanwhile, take a gander at my art on my tumblr/instagram/twitter! (mostly Klance though, so if that's not your cup of tea, just ignore this!)
> 
> Feel free to drop me messages through twitter/tumblr! :D
> 
> http://amarukei.tumblr.com  
> http://twitter.com/amarukei


	4. Life Without Dragon Bits Getting In The Way

  
"Good morning," says Shiro as he walks over to the bed and drops a large paper bag beside the sleeping occupant.

He opens the curtains to let the light in and Keith groans, rolling over to bury his face into the pillow. Thanks to days of stealing food and hunting bandits by night, he's no longer used to waking early. The bed dips near him and a hand gently runs over the scabs on his head.

"Looks like it's healing well. It's still a little inflamed, but good news: your bald spots can be covered up nicely," teases Shiro as Keith squirms away from his hand and gives him a short, annoyed growl.

He pushes himself to sit up, finds his head feeling light and leans against the headboard. He brings up his hands and examines them. They are free of scales; his growing, blunt nails are soft and tender.

He reaches behind him to brush over his bare shoulder. The bandages came off last night and the new skin feels tight and itchy. He looks at the fine bed linen he's sitting on and curiosity takes over. He falls back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as he rubs against the still warm sheets. There's nothing—no wings, no spines—to catch onto the fabric, just bare skin and soft sheets. He sighs, taking in the strange sensation.

"You okay?" asks Shiro, going over to the dresser where a jug of water sits and pours him a glass.

Keith sits up and before he can take the glass from Shiro, his attention turns to the bag near his legs. He rolls off his back to sit up once more and points at the bag.

"What's—" he begins, but his voice is dry and he coughs, and he tries again—"what's this?"

"It's from the others. They couldn't visit you for the past two days and were getting restless, so Coran suggested they write you a letter," says Shiro.

Keith pulls the bag into his lap and peers inside. It's crammed with a bunch of different things and he can't see the end of it.

"Drink some water," reminds Shiro, his hand still outstretched with the glass of water.

"Later," says Keith as he upturns the bag and tries to pour out its contents onto the sheets but it's so tightly packed that nothing falls out. He shakes it a few times. The paper tears and the bag gives way, the contents spilling onto his lap and the bed like a little avalanche.

Shiro rolls his eyes and tries once more. "Drink. Your. Water."

Keith shoves the pile of candies and toys off his lap and says, "This isn't a letter."

Shiro grabs one of his hands firmly and makes him hold the glass. He finally relents and impatiently gulps down the water in one long drag, eyes still trained on the torn bag.

Job done, Shiro takes the glass from his charge—before the distracted young man can drop it or leave it lying around—gives a responsibility-waiving wave and leaves him to his devices.

Keith pulls out the blanket and drapes it around his shoulders, indulging in the feeling of the warm fabric on his skin. He tells himself there's no urgent need to put on a shirt for now.

He picks out a folded piece of paper—it's not crumpled and that baffles him—from the eclectic selection of toys and snacks on the bed and opens it. A green scrawl fills the letter:  


_Hi Red, it's Pidge._

_I hope you're okay. Hunk and Lance packed this bag for you, saying these are the stuff you left behind the other day. I threw out the food since they've gone bad. There's a jar of cookies from Hunk somewhere. The candies are from Lance. The book's from me. Hunk has been stress-baking the whole time and I'd never thought I'd see the day where I'd outright refuse a plate of Hunk's cookies. We'll come visit once Shiro gives the okay._

_P.S. Please write Hunk a reply before he covers the castle with cookies._  
  


He picks out the jar and tries to open it, his fingertips feeling tender as he works it open. The effort is worth it as the tight lid finally pops open and the sweet scent of burnt sugar bursts into the air. He fishes out a cookie and chews on it as he caps the lid back, his eyes catching on something more important. He sweeps aside the filmsy pinwheels, trinkets and foil-covered candies, pulling out a red, woolly hat from underneath.

He runs his hands over the felt lion sewn on it and feels the corner of his lips tug into a smile. He eagerly tries it on but the hat is too long and loose. He pushes it up, but it doesn't stay, the brim falling over his eyes.

He takes off the hat, his shoulders sagging in disappointment.

He pushes off the bed and checks himself in the mirror, looking over the wounds. Long, itchy red scabs cover his shoulders and smaller ones speckle down his back where his spines had been. He pushes down his pants to see another long one resting above his ass where his tail used to be. He had rashes and red spots all over when he first got out of the healing pod where his scales were, but Coran's miracle soothing cream helped. Now, there's barely any red on his arms and legs.

He was fresh out of the pod when Coran told him he kept everything Keith shed for safekeeping asked what Keith wanted to do with them. Keith simply stared at Coran in confusion and the man said no more after that.

He combs through his hair with his fingers and while he feels the scabs pulling at his scalp where his horns were and finds there aren't any bald spots.

 _Shiro, you lying ass_ , he mutters to himself.

Coran told him they've been looking into how the Galra knew where the princess was. Keith has some ideas, but Allura herself had told him he was not to step out of this room until he was completely healed. He knows better than to outright disobey her, so he waited three days.

He's waited long enough, he thinks. Today's the day he'll meet with her. There's a set of his own clothes Shiro brought for him sitting on a chair. He pulls them on, smiling when his old red leather jacket still fits him like it used to. He tugs at his jacket and takes a look at himself in the mirror, fascinated by how his eyes are no longer yellow. His hair is longer and messier than it used to be. He guesses he shouldn't be so unkempt in front of the princess. He can't do anything about his bangs falling into his eyes but he could at least tie his hair up. He digs through the drawers of the dresser and finds a strip of leather to tie his hair with.

He leaves the pile of goodies on his bed. He'll go through them later. And maybe find a big enough sack for it. And when he returns to his cave, he'll bring it all with him.  
  


* * *

  
Pidge pokes her head into the kitchen—not the castle's kitchen, but a private one hidden away near the training grounds where Coran and Hunk often work in—and calls out to the two young men inside.

"Guys, you're needed at Shiro's office now," says Pidge. "Allura wants to discuss some stuff. In private."

"What's it about?" asks Lance, hopping off a counter with his mouth full of cookies. Pidge winced at the mountains of cookies on the large plates. Looks like Hunk hasn't finished stress-baking yet. Lance can probably live on sugar but right now, Pidge is almost ready to sacrifice her first-born for something savoury. He holds out one of the plates of cookies to Pidge and she blanches.

"Stuff," says Pidge. "Now."  
  


* * *

   
"Ah, you're all here," says Coran, ushering the last of them in and closing the door. "We have someone new with us today."

"Lance, Hunk, Pidge, this is Keith," addresses Shiro as he gestures to the shorter man standing next to him with dark hair tied up in a small ponytail. "Keith, they were from the Garrison like you. They're part of the team that answers directly to Allura and me."

Keith nods in greeting.

"The fuck are you doing here," says Lance, shock and surprise giving way to utter contempt in a second, his eyes narrowing into an angry glare and his lips harden into a grim line and he takes a step towards Keith.

"Lance," says Shiro softly as he quickly slides an arm over Lance's shoulder and carefully coaxes him away.

"Keith?" whispers Hunk, scarcely believing his eyes.

Keith lights up when Hunk remembers his name. He tilts his head up and says, "Hey."

Hunk marches up to Keith and opens his arms. Though they shouldn't be anything more than acquaintances, Hunk feels a sense of familiarity as he hugs Keith, squeezing just a little too tight to breathe. Keith doesn't resist, letting the big guy wrap him in his thick arms, and Hunk finds himself grinning when Keith wraps his own arms around his back and pats him.

"Where did you—how did you?" stutters Hunk when he finally lets go of Keith.

"I'll explain later," promises Keith, quirking a smile up at him.

Hunk nods as Allura beckons them to close the door.

"Take a seat, all of you," says Allura. "We need to talk about the Galra threat on our borders."

Keith pulls up a chair and out of habit, swivels it around and straddles it, leaning his arms on the backing.

"Can't you even sit without showing off?" hisses Lance.

Shiro taps him on the arm which only makes Lance glare harder at Keith.

Keith blinks in confusion as he looks at the chair. Did he break something? He hastily stands up to get a better look at the chair. It doesn't seem damaged.

Lance frowns, his irritation somewhat mollified by Keith's strange behaviour.

"You can all sit however you like," says Shiro, stepping in between them as he shoots a disapproving look at Lance, who looks away and sulks.

Hunk nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt at the obvious hostility his best friend is showing the newcomer.

Keith frowns for a moment then decides to go to the wall far enough from Lance and leans against it, folding his arms. The stone is cool, flat against his shoulders and he zones out for a moment, savouring the sensation.

Shiro launches into a summary of events, and his suspicion that the Galra were after Allura.

"Could it be a coincidence?" asks Hunk. "They could be after Red's treasure or even Shiro."

"They set up an ambush around the main roads as if they were waiting," says Shiro. "The dragon was a decoy. The druid and the soldiers weren't interested in the cave at all."

"They could be after Red," says Hunk. "Why else would they bring a dragon? Maybe they were, you know, fighting fire with fire."

"And maybe they went after Allura when they realised they had bigger fish to fry?" says Pidge, working off his idea.

"It's too timely to be a coincidence," says Shiro.

"Calculating the time for the nearest Galra troops to get to us, they would have to be informed at least half a day before Allura even left the castle for the borders," says Pidge.

"It isn't impossible," says Coran from his chair next to Shiro's desk. "After all, Allura did announce her plans to leave the castle a few days prior."

Pidge narrows her eyes. "If they were really informed, that would mean—"

"Spies," blurts out Lance. "There are Galra spies in the castle."

"Not so fast," says Pidge. "It's impossible for them to infiltrate this place. My detectors around the castle alert us even any Galra so much as steps into the castle."

"They don't have to be Galra," says Allura. "As much as I do not like entertaining the thought of spies here, we have to be on the alert."

"Whatever we discuss from now on stays between us," says Shiro.

"Shiro is right," says Allura.

"Indeed. Better safe than sorry," chirps Coran.

Hunk looks down at his lap, hands clasped nervously. He doesn't like the thought of not being able to trust everyone at the castle, but he knows the stakes. He nods, grimly, as the others do.

"What is the latest situation at the border?" asks Allura, looking to Shiro.

"My men have sealed off the cave's main entrance with boulders and spells but bandits have been spotted trying to break in. There hasn't been any Galra sightings around the cave since last week," says Shiro, folding his arms and sighing. "We have raided a nearby bandit hideout and found out from their leader that they bribe nobles to turn a blind eye to their activities."

Allura looks to Keith and asks, "What about you? I hear from Shiro you were _there_  for almost a year now. What do you think of the situation?"

Pidge and Hunk perks up to this new piece of information, their attention to Keith.

"Most of the refugees coming in are from the borders fleeing the Galra. Most of them try to cross over to Balmera because there are hired mercenaries preventing them from going further into Altea," says Keith, his lips curled in obvious distaste. "Also, bandits are a big problem. I've taken a few of those down but their numbers are still on the rise."

"You've taken down a _few of those bandits_  down and expect their numbers to dwindle?" taunts Lance, his nose wrinkling up at Keith's words.

"Yes," says Keith. He'd taken down a few hideouts and hundreds of bandits by now. Yet instead of diminishing in power, they are growing bolder. "They're getting better at hiding and fortifying their hideouts. The last hideout I cleared had traps." He leaves the _'for dragons'_ part unspoken.

"Hideouts?" repeats Lance, not sure he heard Keith right. "You cleared out a bandit hideout by yourself?"

Allura ignores Lance and continues the discussion, "As much as I'd prefer to confront the nobles head on, we have no concrete evidence. They'll simply blame the Galra or the refugees for any accusations we throw at them."

"I suspect the nobles are the ones who have been leaking information to the Galra either directly or otherwise," says Shiro.

"That'll put us in a tricky situation," adds Coran as he twirls his moustache, "as the spies themselves might not even know they are leaking information to the Galra. They could simply be unknowing servants answering to the nobles."

Allura nods. "As a precaution, no one outside of this room, not even our soldiers, must know our plans until the last possible moment."

"Can't we just set a trap and flush the spies out?" asks Pidge. "I'm sure it'll be easy to get a list of bribed nobles and identify the servants working for them."

Coran shakes head and thoughtfully rolls the tip of the moustache between his fingers. "We cannot risk it. The unrest it'll cause will weaken us. We'll be playing right into the hands of our enemies."

"I don't like the idea of waiting for the enemy to make the first move," says Hunk, his fingers worrying the hem of his tunic. "There's a long festival week up ahead soon. If anything happens, it'll be really dangerous for the people."

"We'll just have to be prepared for anything," says Shiro. "We'll have to ramp up the security at the city gates and install those Galra-detectors Pidge is working on."

"In the meantime, I'll get in touch with the Arusians and Balmerans to see if they sight any strange Galra troop movement," says Coran. "Also, Lance is working with me on developing counter-magic to the druid's quintessence bolts."

"Thank you, Coran," says Allura. "The emergence of anti-quintessence magic is worrying. I'd like you to look into that too."

"Certainly," says Coran.

Lance hardly responds, folding his arms and sulking.

"I'll join the soldiers at the borders," volunteers Keith.

"My scouts will keep us informed. You should stay here for now," says Shiro, getting up from his seat and walking over to Keith by the wall and claps a hand on his shoulder as if to keep him from running off.

"I'm not going to stay here and—"

Shiro cuts him off sternly. "That's an order."

Keith folds his arms and huffs impatiently.

"Well then, if everything's covered, I guess the meeting's over," says Pidge, itching to get back to her many projects.

Allura nods and takes her leave as well. Pidge and Hunk follow, leaving Shiro and Lance with Keith.

Keith levels his eyes at Shiro, stubborn. "I know that area better than anyone. I should go."

"Then go. Go to the front lines, fight a dragon or whatever," snarls Lance, narrowing his eyes at Keith. "It's not like you care about what we think anyway."

"What's your problem?" growls Keith.

"Lance," says Shiro, trying to put himself between them as the tension mounts. Lance take a step to get around Shiro and Keith does too, ignoring the knight-commander's attempt to separate them.

"You were alive. The whole year. And you didn't think to at least let one of us know," says Lance.

"It's not like I could just walk back here with the situation at the border," argues Keith.

"You couldn't even bother to send a letter? A message?" challenges Lance.

"Look, it's complicated," grits out Keith. "I didn't want to involve you guys—"

Lance takes that last step forward and grips the front of Keith's tunic.

"You didn't _want_  to involve us? Is this on _us_  now?" he sneers.

"Stop it, Lance," says Shiro as he puts a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Shiro and Hunk never stopped searching. They ran themselves to the ground riding on the hope you survived. And all this time you just _couldn't be bothered_ ," says Lance, curling his lips as he lets go of Keith's shirt like a dirty rag. "You don't deserve them."

Keith's eyes widen in surprise. The thought of anyone searching for him didn't cross his mind. Anyone would have thought him dead the moment he was struck down. Shiro never gave up on him. He hadn't given any thought to them. Hadn't considered their situation; how worried they were for him.

He's guilty as charged and can't refute Lance's accusations. He didn't care for the people who cared about him. He looks away, to the ground, cheeks heated with shame. Lance is right. He doesn't deserve them.

"That's not it, Lance," says Shiro, his hand on Lance's shoulder moving down to his sleeve, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on his arm. "I know you're worried for me and Hunk, but it's not Keith's fault."

Keith doesn't think he can stand being here much longer. He owes them, and he'll repay them. He doesn't have to be here to do it. If he has to, he'll beg Allura to let him go. She's known to be a shrewd ruler like her father before her. She has to see that he'll be of much more use out there than in here.

He marches out the room, ignoring Shiro calling him.  


* * *

  
Allura is currently busy in a meeting with the Arusian dignitaries who have recently arrived, and the guards deny him an audience.

Guards stop him, asking for papers when he tries to leave the castle and barring him from leaving when he shows no knowledge of such papers.

He thinks he'll try Allura once more after she finishes the meeting. He hopes it doesn't take too long.

He doesn't have anywhere to go, so he wanders aimlessly, exploring the castle.

He bumps into Coran, who asks if he wants to join him in the laboratory to try out his new food goo concoction. Keith declines and swiftly makes his way back to his room where it seems safest.

He finds Hunk standing in front of the room, pacing with a jar of cookies in his hands.

"Um, hey," greets Hunk nervously.

"Hey," says Keith. He looks at the door and to Hunk. "What are you doing?"

"I'm, uh," Hunk looks at the door and then to Keith. "I was waiting for someone."

 _Oh, right_ , thinks Keith. _He doesn't know I'm Red yet._

Lance's words linger at the back of his mind— _you don't deserve them_ —and he wants to walk away.

He wants to, but Hunk is standing there, patiently waiting for someone who doesn't deserve his attention. Hunk, who's saved him time and again.

Hunk, who searched for him all this time.

He takes a small step back from the door. And stops.

Hunk doesn't deserve to wait. He doesn't deserve to be kept in the dark and worried over Keith. He needs to be told he doesn't have to worry. That Keith isn't worth all this.

Keith bites his lips and looks up. Hunk is looking at him, patient and waiting.

"Hunk, I—" starts Keith, averting his eyes. "I'm Red, and this is, uh, my room."

"Yeah, I kind of figured," says Hunk, a lop-sided, kind smile hanging on his face.

"It's that obvious, huh?"

"Not really," says Hunk. "Shiro being all secretive about Red, you coming back the same time Red did, it kinda adds up. Not to mention you and Red sound the same."

"Oh," says Keith, scratching the back of his head absently.

"How's your, um, are you feeling better?" asks Hunk.

"What?" Keith cocks his head.

"Your injuries," explains Hunk.

"Oh, that," blinks Keith.

"I'm so glad you look much better now," says Hunk, his lips trembling. "Coran says Red, uh, you still need to rest another week."

Sure, he's still sore and aching, but it'll work out once he's had a little exercise. Hunk doesn't look convinced, one hand fidgeting with the hem of his yellow tunic and the other hugging his jar of cookies tightly. He needs Hunk to—

"Stop worrying," he blurts out his thoughts. "I'm fine."

"I can't help it," says Hunk, looking between Keith and the floor. "There was so much blood and you looked so weak and I was so scared—"

Keith grabs Hunk's arm, kicks the door to his room open and pulls him in.

"Sit," says Keith, pushing him to the soft, generous bed. A good portion of it is still covered in toys and snacks, but that isn't important. Keith throws his jacket on the floor and pulls his shirt over his head, baring his back to Hunk.

Hunk makes a noise of surprise, staring at him, and Keith huffs, baring his back to him.

"Look," says Keith. "I'm fine."

Hunk stands up, cookie jar left on the bed forgotten, and goes closer to look at the multitude of half-peeled scabs on Keith's back. He presses a hand to his mouth to muffle a gasp.

"Oh no," whispers Hunk as his eyes trace each scab. "That must've hurt so much."

Keith makes a noise of frustration. This isn't what he wants Hunk's reaction to be.

"It doesn't hurt at all," insists Keith. "Not anymore."

"But," says Hunk, his hand reaching out, his fingers trembling as he holds back from touching the pink, tender skin around the scabs. "Your _wings_."

Keith cringes at the mention. He misses his wings, but they were also undeniable proof he's part-Galra. And Hunk must know that.

"And your horns," remembers Hunk, stretching to full height and craning his neck to search the top of Keith's head for signs of where the horns were. Hunk stands almost a whole head taller, and Keith realises the big guy usually tries to make himself smaller when with him.

"Here," Keith yanks out the hair tie, and parts his hair with his fingers to show Hunk the scabs there.

Hunk can't help himself as his hand reaches for the dark locks on the shorter man's head and run his thumb over the uneven bumps of clotted blood.

_Keith is Red._

He knows it, but it didn't feel real. Until now. Seeing the marks on Keith's skin, feeling the area where those horns used to be; the fact that Red is standing in front of him finally sinks in.

"Red—" Hunk needs to _know_  that Red is truly alive and well, needs to _feel_  it, needs to erase that image of his friend dying in his arms only days ago— "I know I hugged you once this morning, but can I hug you again?"

"Uh, sure?" replies Keith as he picks his shirt from the floor. He doesn't get to put it back on when Hunk clamps his wide arms around him entirely.

"Oof," coughs Keith, his arms confined and pressed painfully against his ribs. He squirms in Hunk's crushing hug.

Hunk quickly loosens his hold and pats Keith gently on the back.

"I was so worried back there," chatters on Hunk, days of pent up worry spilling out now he feels the relief knowing everything's okay. "I was so scared we wouldn't get you in the healing pod in time. Shiro wouldn't let us see you once Coran and Allura started treatment, and then he didn't allow us to come visit you—"

"I'm fine, big guy," chuckles Keith. The sensation of large hands pressing against his shoulder blades where his wings used to be makes him shiver, sensitive and unused to touch.

"Sorry," squeaks Hunk, letting go of Keith immediately. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Keith huffs, shaking his head. His arms freed, he leans forward and wraps his arms as far as he can go around Hunk. Hunk returns his eagerness many folds, grinning and hugging Keith for as long as he allows.

"I like your hugs," Keith finds himself saying as he feels Hunk's laugh against his chest and closes his eyes to listen.

"Any time you want one, just let me know," promises Hunk. He sways a little on his feet, the rhythm of it soothing, teasing the tension away from Keith's back and he finds himself relaxed and his body going slack.

"Do you want to rest?" asks Hunk, keeping him supported.

Keith shakes his head as he slowly pulls away from the warm hug. He needs to leave this place. He's been cooped up here for days and the yearning to soar into the sky is an itch he can't scratch.

"I want to get out of here."

"I could give you a tour of the castle," offers Hunk.

"I'm getting out of here, out of the castle," decides Keith. Four walls around him doesn't suit him. Even without wings, he doesn't belong here.

 _Shiro be damned_ , thinks Keith. He'll risk Allura's wrath, even.  
  
He was, and is never one to follow the rules anyway.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," says Hunk, brows furrowed in worry. "How about we hang out with Pidge at her workshop? She's working on a new engine for a faster horseless wagon."

"Faster...wagon?" Keith perks up at the thought of that.

"Yeah!" enthuses Hunk, taking the chance to steer Keith away from plans to escape the castle. "Maybe we can even take it for a test spin in the courtyard!"

Keith pulls Hunk out of the room by the hand without hesitation as he declares, "Let's go see Pidge."

"Wait, maybe you should put your shirt back on," stutters Hunk.

"Oh," says Keith, forgetting his state of undress. A few days of resting in bed seems enough to throw him off his routine.

He pulls his shirt back on, still marvelling at how easily it slides over his chest; no wings or spines to catch onto the fabric. The shirt is soft on his back and he has the urge to roll in the bed on his back, but the promise of crystal powered horseless wagons racing through the courtyard wins out.  
  


* * *

 

Pidge nudges her glasses up with a finger as she walks up to them. She comes close and the top of her head barely reaches his chin. He now notices how Hunk makes himself smaller when talking to Pidge, trying to be on the same level with her instead of towering his height over her petite frame.

Hunk tries to introduce them, sidling up to Keith and gesturing. "Hey, Pidge, I was thinking if you could show Keith the—"

"So, Keith, you're Red, right?" says Pidge without so much of a preamble. "You're Shiro's friend and also the half-dragon we brought in the other day."

"Yes," he replies, not backing down from her piercing stare. She's sizing him up, and he's not going to back down. She feels bigger than she looks. Keith feels facing a Galra dragon up close is an easier feat.

"Yeah, I figured. Even more obvious now that your hair is down," says Pidge, releasing him from her scrutiny. He lets go a breath he didn't know he was holding, the tension dropping from his shoulders as she walks away to the other end of the table and pulls out a tin box, setting it on a table with a thump. Its contents clank against the tin as if filled with coins.

"Coran has most of the dragon-parts you left behind," says Pidge, opening the tin to show them. "But I managed to grab some of these."

Hunk claps a hand over his mouth when he sees the box filled with red dragon scales of varying sizes.

"Pidge!" says Hunk, his voice muffled by his hand. "That's rude!"

"What?"

"Red—Keith here might not be okay with this! You should've asked," wails Hunk.

Pidge looks to Keith, who takes one look at the scales, then shrugs.

"I think he's cool with it," says Pidge.

"You are?" asks Hunk, his hand coming down from his mouth.

He feels bad for Hunk to be worried on his behalf over such a small thing. He tries for a smile and nod to show how okay he is with all this.

"I'm going to be straightforward with you," says Pidge, her glasses glinting as she lean into Keith's space and eyes him. "How much do you want for these?"

"Huh?"

"I need your permission to keep your scales. Also, your wings and horns. Well, Coran's keeping them, but I'm sure I can take samples of those for my research if you give me the go-ahead."

"Oh," says Keith.

"If you prefer to have them all disposed of, I can help you with that," offers Pidge. "No pressure, no questions."

He thought Pidge was the kind of person who'd do what they wanted, but it seems he has mistaken her. She's just as respectful as Hunk is to his feelings in her own way.

He thinks she makes a good friend, if she will allow it. He nods.

"Sure," says Keith, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, I can't do anything with that, so if you find them useful, they're all yours."

Pidge hops back gleefully, pulling out a slip of paper and a pen.

"Sign here!" chirps Pidge, pointing out the blank spot at the bottom of a long, comprehensive consent form.

"Make sure to read it," reminds Hunk.

Keith does, and he's surprised at the added clauses where he has the right to stop them from further research and possession of his shed dragon bits if he desires. It's well thought out and all in his favour. Pidge didn't have to, but she did, and he feels as warm as if she'd given him a hug. He shakes his head and signs it, passing it back to her.

Pidge cackles and tucks the paper away, pushing the box at Hunk and him.

"Take one if you want a keepsake," says Pidge. "Some of these are still in pretty good condition."

"I'm good," says Keith. He doesn't need it. It's just scales.

"Nah," says Hunk. "I already have one."

Pidge blinks and pounces on his slip. "Show me."

Hunk makes an 'oops' face and looks to Keith for help.

"You have one?" says Keith, and Hunk's eyes widen, betrayed as he mouthed ' _you gave it to me, how could you_ '.

He pulls out something from under his shirt on a thin leather cord and unfastens it, knowing Pidge won't satisfied with only looking once she sees it.

"Oh my gods," says Pidge, grabbing it from Hunk as soon as he pulls it free from his neck. "It's sturdy and supple, and given how this scale must've been plucked at its peak of growth, you can't even put a scratch on this thing. Look—" she holds it against the light from the window—"there's an amazing swirl of gold underneath the dark red. This is top grade dragon scale!"

"What did Hunk bribe you with for this?" says Pidge, giving Keith a toothy grin.

"It was for the rent," says Keith simply.

"Hunk, you selling? I'll buy it off you for four hundred," offers Pidge.

"No way," says Hunk, grabbing the scale back and tying it back around his neck, tucking it under his shirt, out of the hungry collector's sight. "Besides, it's worth at least eight hundred."

"Is it?" asks Keith. "I thought it'd be more like two hundred a scale."

"Low-grade ones, yeah," says Hunk. "But this size and this condition?"

"Yeah," agrees Pidge. "High-grade ones with colours and patterns like this one is kind of like a carved gemstone. It'll depend on how much the buyer's willing to pay."

"I see," says Keith, looking to Hunk. "I'm glad I gave you that one before all my scales dropped off."

Hunk blushes and Pidge snorts a loud laugh as she nudges him in the arm. "You should've asked for more!"

Hunk looks horrified at the suggestion. "You do know a fresh scale like this hurts him when plucked, right?"

"So?" shrugs Pidge. "Small price to pay for rent. And I bet it came with free food. I'd happily bleed for his cooking. Don't you agree?"

"It was worth it," affirms Keith. He grins with Pidge, happy to know she sees his point.

"You're both incorrigible," admonishes Hunk.

It takes a while for Pidge to recover from laughing at his expense, but when she does, she brings them over to a small wagon she was working on.

"Who wants to go for a ride?" grins Pidge, a conspiratory glint in her eye.

"No, Pidge, Shiro said Keith's not allowed to leave the castle," says Hunk, wringing his hands.

"I don't see the harm as long as he's with one of us," shrugs Pidge. "Besides, I'm sure you're bored of being cooped up in a stuffy castle like this, aren't you, _Red_?"

"Completely," says Keith.

"But Shiro—" says Hunk.

"Fuck Shiro!" Keith bursts out, totally _done_ with Shiro's nosy meddling. Nothing's getting in the way between him and his ticket out of the castle.

Still, he strides calmly to the door and peeks out. Nobody else's around, so nobody, especially Shiro, heard him. Good. He wouldn't want another round of nagging on the use of proper language in the castle.

Hunk's mouth is agape.

"We're definitely keeping you," says Pidge as claps her hands together in glee and doesn't bother restraining her howling laughter

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay and thank you for still giving this fic a chance!
> 
> (I'll make sure to give Lance a little more love too. He's suffered quite taking care of Hunk and Shiro during Keith's absence)
> 
> The need to have maximum fluffy scenes wins so it's gonna be one long chapter split into 2 parts so i can really indulge in the Heith fluff~ >  
> Part 2 will be out soon! I just need to edit it (it'll probably still take a week though because I am the slowest writer ever to write)
> 
> I am grateful to every single reader who reads it, smashed the kudos button and/or commented! (I treasure each and every comment)  
> If you liked the fic, I'd be so grateful if you recced or shared it with your friends!
> 
> I was bogged down with other fics/art commitments for a couple of months so this was pushed back, but rest assured I'm committed to finishing this series~~
> 
> My other non-Heith related stuff:  
> I just finished writing and drawing for a Klance Big Bang recently, check it out if you're into Klance!  
> [Operation: Desert Dream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13282842)  
> Check out my voltron art on my tumblr or twitter @amarukei if you're interested~ XD
> 
> Most importantly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUNK BABY!  
> [Here's a little birthday photo skit](http://amarukei.tumblr.com/post/169642221258) I did for our precious boy~


	5. Shopping And Eating Makes For A Happy Keith

  
They find themselves racing down the busy street in Pidge's crystal-powered mini wagon and hitting all the stores in the city. The street is bustling with life, shop fronts decorated with coloured string and fabric in preparation for the city-wide celebration in commemorating the founding of Altea.

Colourful signs promoting their wares and merchandise are everywhere, with Alteans and tourists alike enjoying the festive mood.

"Put it on commander Shiro's tab," says Keith as he fearlessly shoves the loaves of freshly baked bread into Hunk's arms.

"Pidge, what have you done?" moans Hunk as the shopkeeper, knowing Shiro will pay for it, enthusiastically tries to push the more expensive pastries into his arms. Keith quickly hands the loaded bag to Hunk and makes his way over to the small bookshop next door.

"I just taught him an important urban survival skill," grins Pidge, smug in her accomplishment.

"This is on commander Shiro's tab," comes Keith voice from the front of the bookshop, a handful of the latest publications in his arms.

"Didn't know you were a fan of Slav's writing," comments Hunk as he peers at the sloppily bound cheap monthly publications, with titles like "Reality Is A Game Of Numbers" and "You Might Be Out Of This World" boldly printed among them.

"He's a little dry, but his theories are interesting," says Keith, giving a noncommittal shrug as he stuffs the thin books into a bag of spare parts Pidge purchased.

"Agreed," comments Pidge as she stuffs her mouth with a piece of freshly buttered toast.

Keith copies her, tearing off a chunk of raisin bread and chewing on it. The bread's still warm, fresh from the oven. If there was one thing he didn't get often living in a cave, it was definitely baked goods.

Fresh produce off the farms in the deep of the night was easy, but bread from a window sill in broad daylight? Farmers near desert borders with nothing to lose except their lives make for fiercer warriors than garrison-trained soldiers. Well, he's left coins behind when he could, so that’s likely how he’s managed to avoid irate farmers coming after him with a pitchfork.

There were those days where a barn owner left a basket of eggs outside the coop with a note he could take any chicken save his show rooster. Then there was another one whom he frequently took greens from who left him a bottle of milk. He grimaces a little at the memory—he had a terrible stomachache the day after. Either it was poisoned or he wasn't good with milk. It tasted fine, though. He left a scrawled note saying _'no milk'_ and the next day there was a box of apples for him.

He wonders if he made a good dragon.

"Are you sure we should be buying so much?" asks Hunk as he tries to pack their purchases into the sole empty seat of the four-seater wagon.

"You guys have to come with me to that new swap place just outside this district," says Pidge, bouncing onto the driver's seat and revving up the engines. She speeds up when she comes to a long stretch of road leading out of the busy shopping street. Keith is thoroughly impressed at how the wagon can come close to horseback speed while seating the three of them. Hunk isn't that impressed though, making retching sounds as the wheels bump over the uneven roads.

"Gotta send in a petition to smoothen the roads out," mutters Pidge.

"If the wheels can absorb more shock while maintaining friction, we might be able to probably hit galloping speeds," suggests Keith, enjoying the wind in his face in the front seat next to her.

"Please slow down, I beg you," burps Hunk in the backseat. "And also, consider seat straps. I'm too young to die."

"I've already using softwood wheels with grooves to reduce the bumpiness. It's not bad but it wears out too fast and isn't waterproof once it cracks," grumbles Pidge.

"Have you tried stretchy sap?" says Keith. "It's good for grip and is water-resistant when cured."

"Oh yeah!" Pidge lights up at the suggestions. "They use that stuff for coating tool handles, don’t they? If I made thick wheel covers out of those, they can be durable and easy to mend!"

"And you can make moulds instead of having to carve out wooden ones one by one," adds Keith.

"Damn, that's a great idea! Now I'm peeved I didn't think of it," says Pidge, slamming a hand on the wheel. "You're genius! I want you around. Can we keep you?"

She turns around. "Hey Hunk, can we keep him?"

"Eyes on the road!" screams Hunk. Keith has a hand already on the wheel, correcting their swerving angles.

Pidge turns back to watch the road and Keith respectfully withdraws his hand. The vibration of the wheels and gears thrumming through the steering wheel into his fingers felt so magical the few seconds he was touching it. He looks at Pidge’s hands wistfully.

"If you help me out in the workshop sometime, I'll let you drive Rover Version 3.2 Beta," offers Pidge.

"Deal," says Keith without batting an eyelid.

 

* * *

 

Suddenly they're in a quiet residential neighbourhood as Pidge drops them off at Hunk's place. Now with new ideas Keith helped sparked, she's making her way back to the main city area for more shopping. She hastily unloads her two passengers once she realises she has to make space for more worthy cargo.

The two men look at each other in front of the small cottage with paper bags in their arms. Hunk slumps his shoulders and gave a long 'that’s-Pidge-for-you’ sigh and Keith returns it with a ‘what-can-you-do-about-it’ shrug.

Hunk sighs as he opens the door and gestures for Keith to go in.

"Guess we'll just stay here for the night since there's no point going back to the castle. Pidge will let Shiro know you're with me," says Hunk. "That should be okay. I hope."

"Yeah," says Keith, wanting to comfort Hunk and let him know there's nothing to worry. He won't let Shiro blame Hunk for any of his own reckless actions.

"Make yourself at home while I cook something up for dinner," says Hunk as he puts the bags down and heads into the kitchen. Keith wanders in behind him and looks at the well-stocked shelves.

"Can I help?" asks Keith as he tries to see what Hunk's fixing up.

"It's fine," chuckles Hunk, watching Keith staring and trying not to poke at his utensils and jars. "If you really want to, you could help me set the table. Keith nods and makes his way to the cabinet where the plates are. He's seen Lance do it before.

Hunk serves up the pot of stew and motions for his guest to sit. Keith pulls out a chair and swivels it around out of habit, then pauses when he catches himself doing it, turning the chair back and sitting properly.

"Oh, it's because of the wings, isn't it?" realises Hunk. "That's why you sit like that?"

"Yeah," says Keith, recalling how Lance seems displeased with his probable lack of manners this morning. "Sorry."

"No, no," says Hunk, waving his hands. "You can sit however you want!"

Dinner's a quiet affair as the both of them wolfed down generous helpings of rich beef stew, which was divine with the fresh bread Keith bought. The food in the castle can't compare to this, thinks Keith as he rubs his stomach, sated and satisfied. He looks lazily across the table at Hunk, who is leaning back in his chair and smiling at a meal well-cooked.

Keith smiles in return, wondering how almost every moment he's spent in the company of this man feels so comfortable. He wants more of this, more of these little moments in life where he is warm and full.

"The bathroom's next to the kitchen. Why don't you go clean up?" suggests Hunk as he brings the dirty dishes to the kitchen.

Keith nods. Hunk wouldn't want him dirtying his furniture that Lance has done a pretty good job keeping clean. He heads to the bathroom, promptly turning on the shower and indulging in the convenience of heated water and efficient plumbing. It's been a while since he's enjoyed this luxury. The castle's guestroom he stayed in had an adjoining bathroom but all he could do was wipe himself down with a wet towel as he couldn't get his bandages wet.

He guesses this is the first proper bath he's had in days. He sniffs at his arm, wondering if he stinks. Best to scrub a little harder, he supposes. It doesn't take him long to wash up now he has no need to scrub dirt from his wings and scrape grime from under the spines with frayed-end sticks because he couldn’t afford to keep stealing wash-towels that didn’t last rubbing against hard dragon bits.

There's a generous tub next to the shower large enough he thinks he might be able to fit in even in dragon-form. He pushes down the urge to get into it and _measure_.

A knock on the door and Hunk tells him he can use the yellow towels and bathrobe in the cabinet next to the sink. He responds with an affirmative hum. The top of the cabinet is covered in little bottles and he wonders what on earth a 'toner' is.

He opens the cabinet and sees the top two shelves containing blue towels and more small, carved bottles and jars. The bottom shelf has the yellow towels Hunk mentioned and he grabs one of them. The towel is huge and fluffy and he dries himself as much as he can. No need to create extra laundry, he thinks as he leaves the bathrobe be.

He quickly pulls his shirt and pants back on and walks out, hair still dripping.

"If you'd like, I can get you a change of clothes," says Hunk. "It can't be comfortable to be sleeping in those."

"I'm used to it," says Keith, without thinking. He sees Hunk's sad face and quickly offers a compromise. "Um, maybe later?"

"Your hair's still wet. I can help you. Uh, if you don't mind, that is,” says Hunk, ducking into the bathroom for a fresh towel and holding out the dry, soft towel in an invitation.

Keith looks at the towel then to Hunk. It seems like the big guy's waiting for a response, so Keith nods. The towel descends on his hair and begins to rub the fluffy fabric against his scalp. Keith squeezes his eyes shut, letting the warm towel dry his hair. It's nice to have someone do it for him. He leans into the soft fabric, encouraging Hunk to keep going. He knows he wouldn't allow Shiro do this for him since Shiro will only treat him like a child, but with Hunk it doesn't feel that way at all.

When Hunk is done, Keith almost lets out a groan of disappointment. He runs his fingers through his hair, finding it much drier and his neck more comfortable without water sticking to it.

"I'll take the couch," offers Hunk, showing Keith into the spacious bedroom.

"It's your house," says Keith. "I'll take the couch."

"I can't do that! You're a guest," insists Hunk, persistently nudging Keith through the door to his bedroom.

"Then we'll share the bed," offers Keith. "Like we did back at my place."

They've slept together once back at the cave. He knows it won't be too bad sleeping next to Hunk, especially when this bed looks big enough for two.

"Okay," relents Hunk. They've done this before. It wasn't half-bad, to say the least. Maybe it'll be great this time round too. He opens a cupboard to pull out an extra pillow, and notices Keith eyeing at the extra pillows and cushions in the cupboard and pressing his lips to an almost-pout.

"Do you—" Hunk waves at the extra pillows— "want more?"

Keith nods. Eagerly.

The castle was stingy with pillows. Back at the cave, he enjoyed curling around the blankets and furs he managed to amass, but he knows nothing compares to the feeling of a large, fluffy pillow.

"We can put pillows down the middle," offers Hunk. Sure, they might have cuddled once, but that doesn't mean Red, no, _Keith_ is up for a second round.

"What for?" asks Keith, blinking in confusion.

"I might move around in my sleep without knowing so if you want to, uh, not be squeezed in your sleep, it'll be better to put up sort of wall between us."

"But we were fine the last time,” says Keith, a look of confusion hanging on his brows. “Unless you don't like me touching you—"

"No, no," says Hunk, waving his hands, "I'm totally okay with it!"

“Then I don’t see a problem," says Keith, plopping back onto the bed. With no horns in the way, he turns and buries his head into a fluffed pillow, groaning in satisfaction.

Hunk feels his cheeks heat up, and feels thankful no one can see how hard he's blushing at the small chance of being able to cuddle Keith again. The first time was unexpected, and it felt like cuddling a cat, well, a giant one. Then, it was Red, a dragon who had all the capability to maim him if he tried anything, but now, it’s Keith without claws and horns. Hunk doesn’t think he can take Keith in a real fight still, but with Keith’s much smaller frame now—the wings did make him seem more threatening—he feels the desire to keep Keith’s trust.

They fall asleep next to each other, untouching.

 

* * *

  
Keith stirs awake in the middle of the night with his back aching so badly he has to twist and squirm, breathy sounds of frustrated exhales escaping him as he attempts to find a comfortable position. He usually doesn't have a problem with sleeping, but being on his back for hours isn't something he's used to. There's a crick or three stuck in his neck as he stretches. Hunk's snoring softly next to him. He tries to be quiet, not wanting to wake his bedmate.

He turns over, to his usual position on his side, but it feels like he's going to fall off the soft bed without his wings as a counterweight.

So now he's lying on his stomach with a pillow stuffed under him, irritated at how his neck can't bend the way he wants to. He growls into the pillow, body aching and not being able to do anything about it. He stretches out his legs one by one, feeling the muscles in shoulders tighten and curses when he feels them seize up.

"You okay?" mumbles Hunk, turning on a small nightlight on the wall, casting a dim glow on the walls.

"Sorry," says Keith. He bites back a whine as his muscles lock tight in a cramp.

Hunk sits up, rubbing his eyes as he looks over Keith when he hears the sound of distress. "What's wrong?"

Keith feels the cramp creeping downwards and bites back a whine when his back muscles tighten into knots, unable to let go.  
  
What's wrong?"

"Cramp," grits out Keith. He curls in, knees under his stomach and fingers gripping the pillow he's curled around, waiting for the pain to ease.

And then Hunk rolls out of the bed and is gone from the room in an instant.

Keith curses himself as he causes more trouble for his generous host. He hasn't been anything but a burden so far. He's sure the cramp in his upper back will go away in a bit.

Hunk's soothing voice cuts through his thoughts.

"I got you a hot towel. Where does it hurt?" asks Hunk, gently.

"Back," grunts Keith. "Shoulder. Back too. I'll be fine in a minute, just—"

He feels a soft, almost uncomfortably warm weight press against his entire back from neck to hip—Hunk's towel is _huge_.

"Is this okay?"

"Mm," hums Keith, letting the heat sink in through his thin shirt. The tight painful knots in his shoulders slowly ease. He gives it another moment, and his stomach stops clenching from anticipating the cramp, allowing him to draw deep breaths.

The heat wears off but Hunk's still fussing over him, standing over the bed and adjusting the pillow under his belly, nervously telling him to relax and breathe.

"Does it still hurt? I can heat up the towel," says Hunk, half-turned on his feet, ready to make another trip.

Keith tugs on his wrist to stop him. "It's okay now. Thanks."

He gingerly stretches an arm out to see if the pain's coming back. His shoulders ache like it's badly bruised, like a sort of hangover that comes after a cramp. Satisfied the worst of it is over, he tugs the towel off his back. His clothes damp and sticking to his skin.

"I’ll get you something to change into," offers Hunk, taking the damp towel from him and hanging over a chair to dry.

He looks eager to help and Keith doesn't have the heart to turn him down a second time.

Hunk grabs a freshly folded shirt from his dresser and passes it to Keith, who slides it over his head easily, huffing little sounds of discomfort as he stretches those sore muscles in his back. The comfort of the soft fabric sliding over his shoulders makes him want to indulge further. He hops off the bed, hikes up the shirt and pulls at the waistband of his pants to undo it and tug the clinging article off.

Hunk glimpses the skin-tight dark boxers Keith's wearing underneath that doesn't leave much to the imagination. He hastily turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of drawstring boxer shorts and holding it out to Keith with a hand over his eyes.

"You could, uh, change into this," stutters Hunk as he continues to trip over his words, looking away even though his eyes are already closed under his hand. "I haven't worn this—I mean, it's new. Unused. Yep."

Keith takes the offered undergarment and rubs the fabric against his arm, then his cheek. He likes it. He turns around and removes his boxers, changing into the soft cotton that makes him feel like he’s almost wearing nothing.

"I'm done," says Keith, letting the shirt fall over the boxers.

Hunk peeks through his hand to verify the fact before removing his hand. A needless gesture, but he doesn’t want to accidentally make Keith uncomfortable.

Hunk looks at the shirt, hoping Keith likes it. The shirt is long enough to almost cover the hem of the boxers, giving the illusion Keith isn't wearing anything under. He moves his gaze down to avert the hem but lands on those shapely, smooth legs. He’s beginning to wonder if Keith shaves.

Now that the curiosity has formed and solidified into a question, he inwardly groans. If there’s one thing he has in common with Pidge, it’s their common annoying habit of sinking their death-gripping curiosity into any unsuspecting, innocently unanswered question that pops into their minds.

He knows Lance shaves to keep his skin smooth even though his brown hair doesn't stand out much against his skin. Keith doesn't seem like the sort of guy who'd go the extra mile to look good. Maybe he's naturally this pretty—Hunk coughs, trying to expel the question out of his mind before it takes over his very soul.

"Sorry," says Keith, scratching at his ear and looking sheepish. "I should've gone to the bathroom to change. It was probably rude of me—"

"No, it's okay!" says Hunk, waving his hands to show he isn't the least bothered. That Keith wanted to be considerate of Hunk's comfort makes him feel warm, like he just drank a mug of hot chocolate. He's thankful that red doesn't show up on his dark skin because his cheeks and ears are heating up as he watches Keith climb back into bed. The way Keith curls around a pillow is aggressive yet—dare he think it—so _adorable_. He realises it’s not the first time he’s thinking of Keith this way. Not even Pidge comes close to this level of ‘I-want-to-hug-him-now’ when she’s sleeping and she’s _tiny_. All right, maybe Pidge isn’t a good example.

"Is your shoulder still hurting?" asks Hunk as he climbs back onto his side of the bed, fluffing up his single, leftover pillow now the three others pillows have been commandeered by Keith.

"A little."

Keith doesn't see a point in keeping his dignity now that he feels more comfortable than ever in loose clothing. He tucks his knees into the ends of the pillow and groans in the comfort of the softness against his bare skin.

"I have some ointment for that—"

"Go to sleep, Hunk," mumbles Keith. "I'm fine."

He doesn't look that fine as he shifts and rolls, clinging onto the large pillow like a, well, like astereotypical _dragon_ around its treasure. Hunk squirms back to give him more space as he shifts away from the edge.

"Feels like I'm gonna tip over," says Keith, kicking at the sheets and pressing into Hunk. He uses his legs to pull the spare pillow over in a haphazard attempt to build some kind of pillow fort on edge.

"I'll make more space," offers Hunk.

"No, it's not that. It's— I feel light. Unbalanced."

"Oh," blinks Hunk, feeling the sober fact of dragon wings being missing pressed up against him.

"Stop moving back," demands Keith, and Hunk stops. He doesn't have much space left to retreat. With him so close, Hunk doesn't know where to put his arms. Should he offer to take the couch now? Will Keith mind if he—

"Can you put your arm around me?" asks Keith, and Hunk swears the former-dragon sounds almost eager.

“Like this?” asks Hunk, resting an arm over Keith’s side and waits for the okay. An impatient huff escapes Keith and he tucks Hunk's large arm a little tighter around his waist.

"Don't want to fall off," mutters Keith, his shoulders pressing against Hunk's chest. The warmth is helping to ease the tight muscles and he sighs, content as he drops off to sleep in a tick.

Keith's a little cool to the touch and Hunk wonders if he's still in pain. He presses his nose to the back of Keith's head. There's the light scent of soap and something _Keith_ underneath that makes him think of burning embers in a forest.

Keith jerks once shortly after he falls asleep, a leg kicking out as if trying to balance himself and Hunk holds him in place just a little firmer. His mind catches up and informs him they're _spooning_ as he feels Keith's tense muscles relax against him. Keith seems comfortable, and that’s all that matters to him.

The reassuring weight of the one person he almost lost _twice_ in his arms eases his worries, and for the first time in a year, he feels the relief of getting back what he’s lost. Keith's not going anywhere. Not tonight. He's going to hold on for as long as he can.  


* * *

 

"Hey, Hunk, heard Pidge dumped you in the streets yesterday. Time to—" Lance freezes in the middle of his words as he takes in the sight before him: Hunk isn't alone. Someone with dark hair, a little skinny, is curled up around Hunk's head like a possessive cat.

His buddy's face is buried someone's chest, the top of his head tucked under that someone’s chin. The smaller guy's back is pressed against the headboard while his knees and legs are tucked under Hunk's arms. It looks like a cat halfway climbing over his friend’s head, except said cat looks suspiciously like a full-grown man.

Lance steps in to get a closer look. He recognises the shirt the guy's wearing as Hunk's. Those are definitely Hunk's large-sized boxers peeking out under the large shirt. _Wait. That's a mullet sitting on the guy's neck. This guy's Keith!_

He watches in horror as Hunk gives a snore at the slight disturbance, nuzzling closer to his bedmate; Keith kicks at the headboard behind him and pushes Hunk's head down to his stomach, Hunk's nose moving closer and closer to Keith's crotch—

Lance smacks his own hands over his mouth, then over his eyes in an attempt to unsee the sight.

"OH GODS!"

At the sudden yelling, Keith startles awake, scrambling and bumbling over Hunk's head and shoulders, rolling over the bed until he lands solidly on his feet, crouched and reaching for his dagger only to realise it isn't on him. He stays in front of Hunk and growls, eyes darting about for a weapon.

Hunk splutters awake being kneed in the jaw, rubbing it as he sits up and takes in the scene before him.

"Lance? What are you—" he stops when he notices Keith poised for a fight.

"Keith, what's wrong?" says Hunk as he stumbles off the bed and stands between the two with his hands open, ready to stop Keith from lunging at Lance.

Keith blinks, the vision of Lance covered by Hunk's wide girth. He knows Hunk is safe. His shoulders slowly drop and he straightens his spine. His back feels strangely light. Then he blinks and his mouth slowly shapes into an 'O' of realisation when the fog of sleep finally clears and he realises he's not in his cave.

"Keith? Are you all right?" comes Hunk's worried tone.

"Uh, yeah," says Keith, rubbing sleep away from his face. "Sorry. I was just taken by surprise. I didn't realise it’s just Lance."

"What do you mean 'it's just Lance'?" blurts out Lance, offended.

"I see," says Hunk, calming down as he turns to Lance but before he could greet him a good morning, Lance points an accusing finger at Keith and yells, "Why are _you_  here?"

"Pidge went off without us, so I spent the night here," says Keith, climbing back onto the soft, _still-warm_ bed and yawning.

"In Hunk's bed with your arms and legs around him like an octopus?" says Lance, incredulous.

"Huh," blinks Keith, "I must have shifted in my sleep."

"Hunk," begs Lance, giving up on getting a proper response from the newcomer, "please explain."

"It's more comfortable than the couch," Hunk explains. "My bed is big enough. Besides, I share with you all the time too!"

"Wearing your shirt?" says Lance, his eyes widening as Keith sits cross-legged on the rumpled covers, eyes half-lidded, the sleeves of the large shirt falling to his elbows. Lance whispers, almost scared of the question that comes next. "Gods. Hunk, those are your boxers he's wearing."

Hunk _finally_  has the decency to look abashed about it and hops off the bed to usher Lance out of the room.

"Shit, buddy," Lance sounds shaken up, his eyes staring at his best friend. "I didn't know you two were a thing. You guys met like, what, yesterday?"

"We're just friends," insists Hunk, steering Lance to the couch to sit him down. "Wait here and I'll get breakfast ready."

"He—" Lance rubs his face, not caring if it’ll give him wrinkles. This shouldn't be happening. Hunk's getting himself in trouble and he needs to fix this before it gets worse. He gets to his feet and follows Hunk into the kitchen. Keith's still in the bedroom.

"Hunk, buddy, you gotta listen to me," hisses Lance, keeping his voice low. "I know Keith's your type of guy; being brave and reckless and all that waltz, but he's not the one for you. You have to think this through."

"We're just friends, Lance," says Hunk. "Nothing more."

"That's not—ugh!" Lance shakes his head and peers out of the kitchen to make sure no one's listening in. "Okay. Fine. You're just friends, but it's looking awfully close to being something else. He didn’t think twice about abandoning us. He might hurt you again."

"He's not like that," defends Hunk. He quickly takes the pan off the fire before the eggs burn. "He's really nice once you get to know him."

"You've hardly spoken to him back at the Garrison! You don't know if he's good enough for you. He's not half of what Shay is. Ancients! Even Red makes a better choice."

Hunk takes a moment to process it and realises Lance doesn't know about Keith's situation.

"Um, actually, Red is—"

"Hunk?" comes Keith's voice from the living area, interrupting him. "I'll set the table."

"Yeah, that'll be great!" chirps Hunk.

Lance lets out an exasperated noise. Just because Hunk isn't listening to him doesn't mean he's going to give up. He's not going to watch his best friend do the wrong thing and suffer.

He marches out of the kitchen and sits on a chair, folding his arms and frowning at Keith, who's changed back into his own clothes. Lance doesn't think he'll be able to stand seeing Keith wearing Hunk's clothes like he owns them. He hasn't earned the right to, and frankly, after all Hunk's done for him, he _owes_  Hunk.

"Are you hungry?" asks Keith, putting the plates on the table.

"What do you think?" pouts Lance, refusing to unfold his arms as Hunk comes out with a plate of eggs and lightly seared tomatoes.

"You're hungry. Eat," insists Hunk, bringing out the leftover bread from the day before and setting it before his friend. Lance scowls and grabs a slice, chewing on it and making angry sounds around it.

"What are you going to do today?" asks Keith, taking a slice of bread and an egg for himself.

"I should be checking the castle defences with Coran and Pidge," says Hunk. "We have about three more days."

"If the Galra were to attack the castle, it'll be during the festival," says Keith, his brows furrowed as he assesses the situation.

"That's what Shiro and the others think too," says Hunk.

"Oh yeah," says Lance, distracted by the mention of the commander, "can you help me pack a lunch box for Shiro? He's probably gonna forget to eat with the busy schedule these few days."

"Sure, buddy. You're doing a great job with him. I'm proud of you," smiles Hunk, giving Lance's shoulder a firm squeeze before heading back into the kitchen.

Keith perks up at the conversation and asks without reserve, "Lance, are you and Shiro together?"

Lance spits out his drink.

"What? No," he denies it immediately.

"Oh," says Keith. "I guess I read it wrong. Shiro just does this thing when he's around you."

"What thing?" blurts Lance.

"He's always looking at you," explains Keith.

"He does?"

"Yeah, and when I'm there, he's always taking your side," adds Keith.

"What are you talking about?" says Lance, brows furrowing. "He was on your side the whole morning yesterday."

"No, he wasn't," insists Keith.

Lance looks at him like he's grown another head and doesn't know it. Keith knows that look. He huffs through his nose, frustrated, and tries to explain himself.

"I mean, he's always leaning towards you or standing on your side," says Keith. Shiro may have defended Keith's actions, but his body looked ready to _physically_  defend Lance.

"Yeah," affirms Hunk, nodding as he joins them at the small round tablet for breakfast where a companionable silence settles in as they dig in. “Shiro’s always asking how you’re doing when you aren’t around.”

"Is that so," mumbles Lance, thoughtful as he finishes up his bread. “I didn’t think he cared.”

After they cleaned up and Lance has left for the castle, Hunk finds Keith lying on the couch on his side, back pressed against the large, cushioned covers.

"I'll be heading over to the castle to check on the defences in a bit," asks Hunk. "You can stay here and rest if you're not up to it. I'll let Shiro know."

Keith shakes his head and reluctantly leaves the couch, his gaze lingering upon it as he follows Hunk out of the house.  


* * *

  
Keith is bored.

He followed Hunk about for a while, but Hunk refused to let him help with the heavy lifting. Coran's cooking up a storm in the kitchen—he takes note to avoid it—and Hunk’s busy with checking the castle's defenses with Pidge. He wanders back to the guest room to avoid the chaotic flurry of castle staff and traces the steps to Shiro's office, pausing outside as he hears voices arguing from within.

A second later, Shiro is expelled from the office, the door slamming behind him as he whips around and stares at the door in shock.

"Hey," says Keith.

"Hey," returns Shiro, shoulders sinking as he walks over to Keith.

"What happened?" says Keith, cocking his head towards the shut door.

"Lance kicked me out," chuckles Shiro, shaking his head. "He's threatened me with Coran's latest food goo if anyone catches me working for the rest of the day."

"He's more powerful than the knight commander of Altea, huh," says Keith, amused.

"When he wants to, yeah," shrugs Shiro. He jerks his thumb towards the barracks. "Wanna go a few rounds? I could use the exercise."

"Sure," grins Keith, bouncing on his heels at the chance for something to do. "Prepare to eat the floor."

"Not if I sweep you with it first," says Shiro, accepting the challenge.

The barracks are almost emptied, with the soldiers and guards busy patrolling the city in preparation for the festival. The weather looks good, Shiro thinks. He picks up a wooden sword and gives it a few swings.

"You'd better warm up or you'll pull a muscle," smirks Keith.

"You've become cheekier, I see," says Shiro, picking up a wooden sword from a barrel of them and tossing it over to Keith, who catches it with ease. "I won't let you easy this time by telling you where I'll strike."

"If I had been serious back at the cave, you wouldn't have a chance going easy on me," huffs Keith. "You knew it was me then, huh."

"You're the only cadet who didn't have a problem with me telling you where I'd be striking," said Shiro.

"That’s because most cadets are used to instructors mirror-imaging for them but I've trained with _only_ you. Now fight me," says Keith as he raises the sword, ready to attack.

"You'll regret this," Shiro grins.  


* * *

 

Keith lies on the dusty ground, staring at the sky as Shiro pulls at his shirt to soak the perspiration off his brow.

"I can still go—" a pause for a breath— "one more—" another gasp for air— "round!"

"I know you can, but you shouldn't overdo it," says Shiro, and with a quirk of a brow, rubs it in. "But a loss is still a loss."

"You used your Galra arm, that's cheating."

"All's fair in love and war," says Shiro, relief on his face that Keith referred to his Galra arm without any hint of trepidation. "You'd be using your tail too if you still had it."

"Love and war, huh," says Keith, pushing away from the floor to sit up and looking to Shiro. "Hey, what's your deal with Lance?"

Shiro raises a brow.

Keith stares back.

Shiro sighs. "It's nothing. It won't work out between us anyway."

"What won't work out?" asks Keith. "You don't like him that way?"

"It's not that," says Shiro, running a dusty hand through his hair.

"So...he doesn't like you?"

"No," sighs Shiro. "That's the problem."

"I don't see it," says Keith.

"Huh?" blinks Shiro.

"I don't see a problem," says Keith. "You like him, he likes you, why don't you just get together?"

"It's not that simple," says Shiro, giving him a wry smile.

"Why?" asks Keith, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable like he pays rent.

"It's just not the right time, what with the state of things in Altea right now," reasons Shiro.

Keith snorts, waving Shiro’s excuses away.

"There'll always be something going on. The Galra attacking—" he points his hand at Shiro— "getting captured by the druids—" he gestures at himself— "or getting _fucking_  turned into a dragon. What I mean to say is, it's never going to be the right time, Shiro. If you like him, you better sort that out _now_  because who knows how long we'll be able to survive this mess."

"When did _you_ get so pessimistic?" chuckles Shiro, then the mirth falls from his face. "I can't just walk up and expect him to let me ask him out. It's too much."

Keith gets to his feet and dusts off the seat of his pants. "Well, I think you could at least ask for a hug."

"Wow, I never thought I'd hear you give relationship advice," teases Shiro.

"I've learned hugs can be really nice," says Keith, looking him straight in the eye.

"Are you offering?"

"Sure," says Keith, arms spread open and waiting. Shiro comes in and gives him a firm hug.

"Hunk is much better than you at this," says Keith as they break off.

Shiro snorts, "Critic."

"It's the truth," shrugs Keith.

"You're right, I guess," says Shiro, punching Keith in the shoulder maybe a little too hard. "I guess I’ll talk to Lance after the festival."  


* * *

  
Keith spends the next few days lounging in Hunk’s house, shopping in the streets, and trying to help out at the castle. His nights are spent cuddling with Hunk in some way, and without his dragon bits in the way, he’s getting almost too comfortable.

If this is going to be the rest of his life, he thinks he doesn't mind it at all.  


* * *

 

The festival begins without much fanfare, with more dignitaries trickling in throughout the day from the Balmera and Arus; even as far as Taujeer. The guests are welcomed by the Allura and Coran, both dressed in fine Altean garb.

Shiro finishes checking in with the castle's defences and makes his way to join Allura to welcome the guests. Keith stays out of the knight commander's duties, wearing his old red jacket with Altea's insignia pinned on his collar, allowing him access to the Castle and the barracks.

Weapons aren't allowed in the main hall where the guests are gathered. Even Shiro had to leave his sword behind, but he is far from unarmed. Lance is wearing formal Altean attire as well, flitting among the guests and telling them about the festival.

"Hey," says Hunk sheepishly, waving at him, a piece of paper in his hand with Pidge’s green scrawl all over it.

"Hey," smiles Keith. He briskly makes his way across from the courtyard to the reception tables near the main gates.

"Pidge's sending me out to buy some stuff, want to come?" asks Hunk. "I'm not sure if I can carry everything back by myself."  
  
"Sure," says Keith easily, falling in next to Hunk. "I'd like to, actually."

The crowd is alive, thinks Keith in horror as he gets swept up, unable to weave through the people, helplessly following the ebb and flow down like driftwood until Hunk pulls him into the first shop on Pidge's list.

"They need to make the streets wider," grumbles Keith, stretching his arms over his head after being squished for a good half hour.

"They are pretty wide," says Hunk. "The crowd will ease a little by tomorrow."

"Mmm," says Keith, nonchalantly. If he still had his dragon parts and was forced to go through that, his thin wings would definitely be shoved and torn off him by the time he got to the end of the street. He shudders at the thought.

"Okay, I've got the stuff," says Hunk, taking the bottles of reagents off the counter and puts it in a bag he brought along for this purpose. Keith stretches out a hand, waiting.

"Huh?" Hunk blinks, looking at the offered hand.

"I'll hold it so you can focus on the shopping," says Keith, taking the bag from Hunk's hands and slinging it over his shoulder in one smooth motion. Hunk squeaks a little at the generous gesture.

"Let's go to the next one," says Keith, cocking his head towards the main street. The sooner they finish up, the sooner they are done with the crowd. He braces himself for the onslaught of noise and smell and way too much physical contact when there's a tug on his jacket. He turns to see Hunk giving him a sheepish look.

"I don't want to lose you in the crowd," says Hunk, his fingers gripping the hem.

"Okay," says Keith. He takes Hunk's hand in his, squeezing tight as they jump back into the chaos. Hunk feels his heart beat faster and knows it's not because of the noise around them, but because of the smaller hand gripping his fingers tight, refusing to let him be swept away by the crowd. Keith stands guard for him as he talks to the store owners and gets what they need, and takes his hand and walks just half a step in front of him to cut a path for him as they make their way into the fray of people and tourists.

They are at the last store when Hunk feels something amiss. He steps out of the store and looks to the skies, seeing the beginnings of darker clouds. It shouldn't be anything to be alarmed about.

"Something feels off," says Keith, echoing his thoughts.

"Yeah," says Hunk, tucking the purchased goods into his bags. "We should hurry back to the castle."  
  


* * *

  
They are halfway back when a signal is fired into the sky with a loud crack. It was unremarkable, like a firework not blossomed, the trail of purple smoke drawing an arc into the sky.

The people around them hardly paid any attention, thinking it to be a fireworks test.

"That's Pidge's signal," says Hunk, panic in his voice. "It means the Galra are attacking!"

They drop everything on the ground where they stand and push their way through the crowds, Hunk's voice growing louder as he yells for the people to give way, firmly pushing through like a hot knife cutting through butter.

When they run in through the large iron gates, they see guards surrounding the castle. A dead soldier, a captain by the looks of her jacket, lies near the edge of the purple barrier, having tested with her own body what the wall of energy is made of.

Not a bolt, but a whole wall of corrupted _quintessence_.

They hear the panic and screams before they see a pack of six Galra dragons descend from the skies, ignoring the guards shooting at them and swooping right through the barrier. It's not without casualties, as the cannons mounted on the castle walls take down the first two smaller ones that approach with deadly accuracy. The soldiers rush to surround and attack the fallen dragons, putting down the threat effectively.  
  
The rest of the pack make it through the wide-open doors leading into the inner castle.

Keith narrows his eyes as he finds it strange that the guards within the castle are missing. He spots a druid holding a large crystal, their arms outstretched to maintain the barrier. They are well-shielded from arrows hiding just behind the door.

Hunk wrings his hands, desperately looking around for a way to bring down the barrier.

"I'm going in to take down the druid," says Keith. He's assessed the situation and knows there's only one way to do this.

"You're not full-Galra. Maybe you can get through the barrier alive, but what if you’re hurt? There are dragons in there. You’ll be attacked," says Hunk, chewing on his lips as he scans around him for another way.  
  
"I'll just have to risk it," says Keith, taking a sword from a fallen captain, looking for a way in where he can ambush the druid from their blind spot. He shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor and looks for a good entry point.

"Wait!" says Hunk, rushing up to Keith.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," says Keith. He sees Hunk's deeply furrowed brows and trembling lips, and reaches his free hand out to gently cup the side of his jaw. Hunk notices the hand on his face is cold and trembling ever so slightly, and he realises Keith isn't as fearless as he seems to be. He is _much_ braver than Hunk has ever imagined.

 _Don’t walk away from me,_  begs Hunk silently. Keith did that twice, and it broke his body and covered it in scars.  
  
And every time it _broke_ Hunk’s heart.

"I promise," says Keith, his hand sliding away from Hunk's face to turn towards the barrier.

He holds back his tears as he bends down to pick the shield from the fallen captain. This time, it'll be different. Keith's going to be safe. He won't be going into danger alone. The guards are on alert, bows drawn and ready to fire. Hunk picks up the shield that had been next to the sword, watching and waiting for the split second the barrier comes down.

  
He won't let Keith go alone this time.  
  
  
_It's a promise._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely, lovely kudos, comments and bookmarks! I never thought my Heith fic would get this much support but it did, and the support really helps motivate me to keep this fic going! :D thank you thank you thank youuuuu!
> 
> I’m also amarukei on twitter and instagram. [Getting a coffee ](https://ko-fi.com/A324KTL)would definitely help fuel my writing! If you can’t buy a ko-fi, a reblog or like on my tumblr/instagram would help me out lots too! :D Visit my tumblr [here](http://amarukei.tumblr.com)! (also amarukei on instagram/twitter)  
> (my space is discourse-free and multi-ship friendly)


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